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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073331">With You, I Am Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes'>221blackandwhitestripes</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chierei/pseuds/Chierei'>Chierei</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/low_fi/pseuds/low_fi'>low_fi</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile'>Miss_Vile</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>With You, I Am Me [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Collaboration, Crack, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, M/M, Matchmaking, Multi, Season/Series 01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:34:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>60,773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chierei/pseuds/Chierei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/low_fi/pseuds/low_fi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristen knows a crush when she sees one, and her friend Ed has a crush...on Mr. Penguin! She and her friend Lee will do everything in their power to get them together!</p><p>(A collaboration fic)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kristen Kringle/Leslie Thompkins, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>With You, I Am Me [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>219</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Step Down the Rabbit-Hole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N from Chierei: Tada! We’ve been working on this for the last few months, and I’m excited that it’s finally ready for the public! I hope everyone enjoys our crazy little project. It’s a wild ride, but we had a ball writing this together. &lt;3 </p><p>Zebra: Can you regular readers guess who wrote what? ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ed strode into the records annex looking for a file on the Martinez cold case. It was supposed to be a quick pop-in: grab a couple of files, refile a couple more, and if he was lucky he'd see Miss Kringle. He whistled tunelessly as he threw the door open and flicked on the lights. Three steps in he heard the stifled sob. </p><p>
  <em>Oh dear. Was that…?</em>
</p><p>He hastily reversed his course, pressing his back to the doorframe. Eyes squeezed shut, he took a deep breath. He should’ve knocked. This was clearly a private moment, something he was not meant to see. He could close the door and pretend he’d heard nothing. But the light was already on: that bell couldn’t be unrung. Cautiously, he re-entered the room, all-too-aware of the unnatural silence that now filled it.</p><p>“Miss Kringle…” He cleared his throat. “Miss Kringle, is everything alright?” </p><p>A muffled sniffle was the only response. Cautiously, he turned a corner, inching closer to the source of the sound. </p><p>Kristen sat slumped against a filing cabinet, arms loosely wrapped around her knees, head pressed against the nearby wall. Her hair, usually held together in a neat ponytail, hung freely, obscuring part of her face. </p><p>Ed pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Ed pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Years of painstakingly-gathered observation had taught him that this was a situation in which something had to be said.</p><p>“When I was a child, I used to hide under my desk when I felt overwhelmed,” he began, edging closer.</p><p>Kristen only grunted in response. </p><p>“Not that it did any good, but it passed the time.” He slid over next to her, pressing his back against the metal file cabinets. He rummaged through his jacket pocket for his spare packet of tissues and passed one over. </p><p>She pulled the tissue from his hand, and it disappeared behind the curtain of her hair. Wordlessly, the pair sat until her sobs slowly trickled down to silence once more. Then out of nowhere, she spoke:</p><p>“Tom… Tom and I… we got into an argument. Things got… a bit out of control, and I said some things that I shouldn’t have and…” She took a shuddering breath “... and he hit me.” She paused, reaching for another tissue, revealing the blooming purple bruise under the edge of her sleeve.</p><p>Ed swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat. He felt the need to say something. “That’s awful.” It didn’t seem like enough. </p><p>She only shrugged in response. “I suppose I never considered I’d come into work today, and he’d be there.” She wiped at her eyes, leaving a long black smear of mascara on her cheek. </p><p>He instinctively reached to wipe away the stain, only to hastily avert course and hand her the rest of the tissues instead. </p><p>“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she said, twisting the tissue under her hands. </p><p>“I am always here to listen, if, if you want,” Ed said. “I have, I mean…” He didn’t really want to think about it, had spent years not thinking about it but… “I know how you feel,” he finally said, soft. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He had never told anyone about his father, not until now. </p><p>“How can you know how I feel?” Kristen snapped, “Have you had a cop boyfriend who sometimes likes to beat on you?”</p><p>Ed shook his head. “No, but my father...wasn’t a very nice man. He wasn’t a cop, but well, he was someone. Someone important, someone no one would believe would hurt anyone.” He pressed his nails into the soft skin of his palms, grounding himself as he focused on the pain.</p><p>“Oh,” Kristen said, startled enough that it halted her crying for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have—”</p><p>Ed shook his head and offered what he hoped was a comforting smile. “It was a long time ago. Studies have shown that talking about shared experiences can assist in processing the event. So, I can listen. If you want.” He hugged his knees closer to his chest, matching Kristen’s pose. He knew how much it could hurt, and not just the physical pain of it. And Kristen was a kind soul, one who didn’t deserve this—not like he had.</p><p>There was a long silence before Kristen offered him a shaky smile. “Thank you, Mr. Nygma,” she said. “I would like that very much.”</p><p>—</p><p>A week had passed before Kristen saw Ed alone again, and this time he was grinning from ear to ear. He pulled the door to the records room shut and beckoned her close with a conspiratorial wave. Hesitantly, she complied.</p><p>“Miss Kringle, I’m going to need your discretion for this, but I think that you are going to be very pleased with what I’m about to tell you. I think that I’ve found a solution to that Officer Dougherty problem. Now listen to this: two days ago one of The Duke’s dealers died, and his body came into the morgue, and oh my, what a state he was in. His eyes looked like they were about to burst out of their sockets and—”</p><p>Kristen wondered if she was going to throw up.</p><p>“—and I’d never quite seen a rupture like that. Anyway, Dr. Guerra left for lunch, and I was just finishing up the autopsy and you wouldn’t <em>believe</em> what I found in his diaphragm! Apparently, before the officers got to him he’d swallowed his entire stash! If that gunshot wound hadn’t killed him I’m sure the OD would’ve: that man had swallowed over forty grams of cocaine! The bag was still intact too.” He slipped a gloved hand into his pocket. </p><p>
  <em>Why was he wearing gloves? </em>
</p><p>The hand emerged, a small baggie sandwiched between his second and third fingers. </p><p>Her heart slammed into her ribs. </p><p>“Ed, what are you doing? Are you crazy? Put that back!”</p><p>Ed shook his head, the grin sliding off of his face. “Just listen to me for a moment! This is how we do it: this is how you can get rid of Officer Dougherty. I could plant this in his locker. I wouldn’t get caught—I’m clever that way. You just have to stay in sight so that you have an alibi, maybe take your lunch break with some co-workers. But we do this, and with one anonymous tip-off, there’s no more Officer Dougherty. It’s over. No more constantly looking over your shoulder. Isn’t that what you want?”</p><p><em>Isn’t it?</em> She studied his face. </p><p>“You mean it’d all be over?” </p><p>No more looking around the corner just to see if he was there? She should feel disgusted by the idea--to ruin a man’s life just because he was ruining hers. But when she looked inside herself all she found was relief. Finally, a solution. </p><p>She took a deep breath.</p><p>“Ok. Do it.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Ed returned two hours later.</p><p>“So, um… has the deed been done?” she whispered.</p><p>“Deed indeed.” He nodded solemnly, yet she spots a glint of mischief in his eyes.</p><p>It took a moment to hit but suddenly all the air released from her body. </p><p>“It’s done, oh my god, it’s done.” She pressed her hand to her lips, smiling even as tears started to spill from her eyes. “Thank you, Ed. I appreciate it, really,” she said. Caught up in the whirlwind of utter relief, she pulled him into a hug. </p><p>He froze, startled, then placed his hands gently on her back. “Glad you’re feeling better, Miss Kringle.” He hummed like he was comforting a small bird.</p><p>“Please, Ed, just call me Kristen.”</p><p>“Kristen.” He smiled</p><p>---</p><p>It wasn’t long before Kristen was waking up each morning with a genuine eagerness to get to work. With no Tom Dougherty there to torment her and Edward Nygma there to greet her each day with her coffee just the way she liked it, she could finally say that she enjoyed her job. That’s not to say that she wouldn’t leave in a heartbeat the moment she was given the opportunity to pursue something more adventurous, but she was content.</p><p>However, there was quite a bit of tension in the precinct as of late. Having people like Tom Dougherty and Arnold Flass around meant that<em> tense</em> was just the status quo, but they were no longer looming around her. This tension was more… subtle. Like a calm before a storm. Several of the other officers were whispering under their breath and rumors were spreading around about Detective James Gordon. Kristen wasn’t normally one to involve herself in the daily hubbub, but Ed often encouraged her to indulge in a little mischief and flit around the bullpen to eavesdrop on their conversations. She wasn’t as good at solving puzzles but, based on what she heard, it seemed that Jim had gotten himself involved with one of Fish Mooney’s former employees. </p><p>Kristen recognized the renowned club owner’s name simply because it was rare to be a Gothamite who <em>didn’t</em> know of Fish Mooney—especially as a woman in this city. Mooney was assertive and powerful. She was everything Kristen wasn’t. Everything she wished that she could be, even if just a little bit.</p><p>“Did you always want to work in forensics?” Kristen asked Ed one morning, hands cupped around her daily cup of coffee. </p><p>“Why do you ask?” he seemed nervous about the inquiry. </p><p>Kristen didn’t usually show much interest in Ed’s personal life, so she shrugged.“You’re so smart. Don’t you ever think about doing something more?” She smiled. “I’ll bet you could do anything with that big brain of yours.”</p><p>“I appreciate that.” he blushed at the compliment. “I enjoy my job. Love it. There aren’t many things I would trade it for. But it wasn’t my first pick growing up.”</p><p>“Oh?” she sipped her coffee. Perfectly sweet with a hint of toffee, just like she liked it, though she never could figure out how he guessed it so accurately.</p><p>“I may be Grand, with a mouth full of ivory teeth. When I speak, my heart hammers at metal strings. I possess many keys, but open no doors. What am I?”</p><p>Kristen thought about it for several moments before shrugging her shoulders. Give her a crossword puzzle any day of the week and she could solve it. Riddles, not so much. “Sorry. I give up.”</p><p>“A piano,” Ed said, slightly disappointed that Kristen hadn’t been able to answer. A good riddle reveals the asker, after all. To answer correctly is to understand the person asking, but Ed suspected that they weren’t to that point yet. “I wanted to be a pianist,” he explained.</p><p>“I didn’t know you played the piano!” she said, beaming. “I always thought they sounded so romantic.” she sighed at the thought.</p><p>“Maybe I could play for you sometime.” Edward licked his lips and gave her a shy smile.</p><p>“I would like that.”</p><p>Edward took a moment to admire her. Her smile, especially. She was so… pretty. It was like she had stepped out of a story book. Modest wool dresses with delicate collars. Feminine. Graceful. Her fiery red hair contrasting her demure exterior. She was everything he felt was right and good and proper. He figured now was as good a time as any to try and finally ask her out.</p><p>He cleared his throat.</p><p>“Do you want to—”</p><p>Suddenly, there was a shout that echoed through the precinct, muffled voices growing louder through the walls.</p><p>“--To…”</p><p>Several people were shouting now, and Ed could pick out some of their voices; Detective Gordon, Detective Bullock, Captain Essen. He wasn’t sure about the others.</p><p>
  <em>Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?</em>
</p><p>He tried again. “Do you want to…”</p><p>Kristen stared blankly at him, seemingly unconcerned by the commotion. Oh, but curiosity <em>scratched</em> inside his veins, pulsing from his heart as his fingertips twitched.</p><p>
  <em>What led Alice down the path and the cat to fall from the tree?</em>
</p><p>All at once he was moving, a bottomless apology falling from his lips as he scampered from the room, down the stairs and to the bullpen.</p><p>“I didn’t kill Oswald Cobblepot! I didn’t kill him!”</p><p><em>Oswald Cobblepot.</em> What a fascinating name.</p><p>Detective Gordon had his arms twisted behind his back, two officers keeping hold of them. Ed didn’t recognize them. They must have been from the MCU.</p><p>“I’m with you partner, you didn’t kill nobody!” Detective Bullock and Captain Essen seemed to be trying to defuse the situation, tugging Gordon from the MCU’s grip. </p><p>“No, seriously Harvey, I didn’t kill him!”</p><p>A door slammed shut behind him, but Ed refused to turn his attention away, until—</p><p>“Hello.” Like the beginning notes of a crescendo.</p><p>Slowly, each officer in the building turned. Hesitating for a moment, Ed turned too.</p><p>“I… am Oswald Cobblepot.” The GCPD exploded into chaos. <em>Fascinating.</em> A uniformed officer shoved past, and Ed planted his hand on the desk beside him to steady himself. </p><p><em>“Oswald Cobblepot,”</em> he whispered under his breath. Around him officers moved again, unpaused as they went about their business in the aftermath. “Oswald Cobblepot.”</p><p><em>Who</em> was Oswald Cobblepot?</p><p>---</p><p>Kristen didn’t quite know what to think of Edward Nygma for the longest time. He had been...an oddball, to say the least. When he had first shown up working for forensic two years ago, she had given him the benefit of the doubt. He had always been kind, but there was just something about him that had always set her on edge. She had done her best to be kind, but sometimes that man was infuriating. It had taken her days to put back the record room to her order, and even to this day, she couldn’t always find the right file in a timely manner. </p><p>But now, she could tentatively call them friends. </p><p>“Good morning, Miss Kringle,” Ed said, interrupting her mid-thought as she was mildly sorting through file requests at her desk. She gave him a smile, pushing up her glasses as she stood politely. </p><p>“How many times do I need to ask you to call me Kristen?” she said, the careful edge of teasing. She was still settling into this friendship but was pleasantly surprised to find that they had similar senses of humor. </p><p>Ed gave her a toothy grin, handing her a cup of coffee with milk and sugar, just the way she liked it. “As always, Miss Kringle, once more.”</p><p>Kristen chuckled. “Very well, Mr. Nygma,” she said, taking a sip and not bothering to hide her smile. “Can I help you with anything?”</p><p>Ed shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back in a way that made him look like a school boy. “Oh no, I just wanted to say good morning and bring you your coffee,” he chirped. </p><p>“Well then, Mr. Nygma, good morning,” Kristen said. They lapsed into silence, both unsure of what else to say. She waited for Ed to speak further, but he just continued to stand there and smile. It was times like this that she was reminded of why he had always unsettled her in the past, but she tried to push past that. “Well,” she said, starting to fidget as she wrapped her hands around the mug, spinning it idly, “I should probably get back to work.”</p><p>Ed’s smile never faded. “Of course, Miss Kringle, I will just…” his words faded off, and Kristen noticed that his eyes were glancing down at her desk where she was sorting through files for Detective Gordon. </p><p>“Ed?” Kristen said, trying to get his attention. </p><p>“You’re pulling files on Mr. Penguin?” Ed said, hand already reaching down to brush through the slim stack of files she had gathered. </p><p>“Um, yes,” she said, cocking her head. “Detective Gordon asked me to pull the files after, well, yesterday.” Oswald Cobblepot had churned up quite a stir with his miraculous recovery. Kristen had only heard bits and pieces of rumors; she had been in the records room when he had made his dramatic entrance and only heard the potential story through rumors and hearsay. What she had heard, however, seemed almost too unbelievable to be true, even for Gotham. </p><p>“Are you done with them?” Ed asked, eyes still trained on on the stack of files, flipping open the first and staring intently at the paperclipped black and white photo of the man known as Penguin. </p><p>She nodded, slowly. “Urm, yes. I was going to bring them down to the bullpen once I had finished with a few other requests.”</p><p>“I can bring it for you,” Ed said, voice oddly sharp. </p><p>“Oh,” she said, unsure. “I couldn’t bother you like that.”</p><p>“No, it is no trouble at all,” Ed said, already scooping up the files into his arms. “It’ll only take me a jiffy.” He was already turning before she could protest any further.</p><p>Kristen was still standing when the door of the records room slammed shut, not sure what had just happened. She had never seen Ed act like that before, so intense. She hummed into her coffee, finally taking a seat back down to sort through the remaining files. </p><p>Oswald Cobblepot, huh?</p><p>— </p><p>Jim knew that everyone was watching him. He could feel their eyes following him as he grabbed the blank warrants and sat at his desk, meticulously filling them out and pretending that everything was normal. Even with feeling hyper aware of everyone’s eyes, it still took him a moment to realize his spectator. </p><p>“Detective Gordon,” a voice said, making Jim jump. The knowledge of the target on his back didn’t help matters. </p><p>“Jesus, Ed,” Jim said, clutching his chest even as he looked up at the forensic scientist. “We need to put a bell on you.” The man had an unnatural ability to go unseen, even when he was right next to you. </p><p>“I was just dropping these off for Miss Kringle,” Ed said, hand reaching out with a slim stack of folders. It took Jim a moment to remember that he had found her early this morning to request that she pull any files she could find on CobblepotCobblepot. Jesus, it was a mess. He should have looked into the man sooner, the moment he had known he was alive, but he never thought that he would go and just...announce it, putting all of their lives in danger. </p><p>“Thanks, Ed,” Jim said, grabbing them and flipping open the first page on the top file. It was the only file dedicated solely to the man. He furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Is something wrong, Detective?”</p><p>Jim had to keep himself from jumping again, not realizing that Ed was still hovering. </p><p>“Oh, nothing,” Jim said, flipping a page to read the man’s employment history. He had no formal arrests but a lengthy list of suspicious activity, but all in all, the file wasn’t telling him much. It painted the picture of a squirrelly nothing who dogged on the heels of great men and women, not of the man he knew—the intelligence and ambition and <em>danger</em>. “It’s just odd that there isn’t a photo in here.”</p><p>“Oh, that is odd,” Ed said, shifting on his feet. </p><p>“Can I help you with anything else, Ed?” Jim asked, wondering why he was lingering. But Nygma had always been a little off. </p><p>“Oh. Urm, no,” Ed said. “Just noticed what files you were picking. Oswald Cobblepot, huh?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said, the words slow as he tried to figure out where Ed was going with this. “Thought it would be prudent to learn a bit more about him.”</p><p>“Yes, prudent. That,” Ed said, nodding and agreeing readily. “He is a fascinating man, isn’t he?”</p><p>“That’s one word for it,” Jim said dryly. “Can I help you with anything else, Ed?”</p><p>“Oh, um, no,” Ed said. “I’ll just...head back to the morgue to examine those bodies.” </p><p>He turned and silently slipped out of the bullpen. </p><p>It wasn’t until Ed was long gone that Jim remembered that Ed wasn’t the medical examiner and shouldn’t be examining any bodies at all.</p><p>—-</p><p>Ed slowly pressed the severed finger against the ink pad.</p><p>
  <em>Oswald Cobblepot.</em>
</p><p>He delicately mashed the finger over the test paper.</p><p>
  <em>Oswald Cobblepot.</em>
</p><p>The thumb next, burying it in the ink.</p><p>
  <em>Oswald Cobblepot.</em>
</p><p>“Ed?”</p><p>He jumped, standing up in a rush and flipping the ink pad over in his haste. “Kristen!” He righted the ink, setting the thumb down next to its friend.</p><p>“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, but I have been standing here for about a minute.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry, I was just—” He gestured to the thumb and fingers. “...Focusing.”</p><p>“Were you? Because you printed that second finger twice,” she pointed out. “Which is gross, by the way.”</p><p>“Okay, perhaps my mind was elsewhere,” He allowed.</p><p>“On Oswald Cobblepot, perhaps?” Kristen raised her eyebrow.</p><p>How did she… “How could you possibly know that?”</p><p>She shrugged. “You just have that way about you, you know.”</p><p>“No, I don’t know,” he stated. Hmm. He looked Kristen up and down. He had known that Kristen’s ‘people skills’ were a little more developed than his own, but to the extent of mind-reading? Fascinating. “Tell me, what do you think about Oswald Cobblepot?”</p><p>She smiled warmly. “He is… handsome, I’m sure.”</p><p>Ed frowned, shaking his head. “Not his body, his personality.”</p><p>“Well, I’m sure—”</p><p>“Although, speaking of his body, that leg of his rather fascinating, don’t you think?” That beautiful itch of curiosity. “I tried to look through his file for what caused—”</p><p>“You looked through the file?”</p><p>“—the limp because from what little I’ve seen of it, it’s hardly something one could be born with.” He hummed, drumming his fingertips atop the desk in a 3/4 of <em>curiosity</em>. “In fact, I’m rather sure that some possible trauma had to be involved. Perhaps during childhood, but I hope not for his sake.”</p><p>“If you say s—”</p><p>“Actually,” His mind was racing, possibilities flourishing, “The leg doesn’t seem to be healed, wrongly or rightly, which means he could’ve suffered the trauma rather recently.” His leg bounced up and down, jovial with the festival of knowing. “Oh, I <em>wish</em> I could find out what happened.”</p><p>Kristen sighed, cocking her hip. “If you’re so curious, why not just ask him yourself?”</p><p>“What?” Ed glanced at her. She was looking at him with a half-smile, as if she were watching a small child play with a toy. “How could I do that?”</p><p>“He’s in the bullpen,” she answered. “I saw him before I came in.”</p><p>Oh dear. How long had they been talking? He could leave any minute!</p><p>“Uh, em, sorry, Kristen, I suddenly remember that I left something in the….” He flew out of the room, running through the hallway. He came to a stop before the detective’s desks, looking straight at <em>him</em>. Oswald Cobblepot. Here again. In the flesh. Fascinating flesh. Flesh that was turning slowly and… and locking eyes with him.</p><p>His body went from Winter to Summer.</p><p>
  <em>Hello there.</em>
</p><p>He watched the Penguin turn, heading for the far set of stairs. Like a reflection, Ed followed, stepping down with him in sync. </p><p>
  <em>Curiosity took Alice’s hand and marched her down the lane. Eyes turned and burned bright, losing the moon that made them sane.</em>
</p><p>They reached another set of stairs and he followed him down those as well.</p><p>
  <em>What’s black and white and staring right at you?</em>
</p><p>Ed reached the front desk just as Oswald Cobblepot did the same.</p><p>
  <em>The thrill of the chase, playing a game, cat and mouse, a lion to tame.</em>
</p><p>Mr. Penguin turned to Ed. “Can I help you?”</p><p>“I don’t think so.” A mirror, a looking glass, he turned too. “Can you?”</p><p>The man began to chuckle, and Ed helplessly joined in. </p><p>Then suddenly; “What do you want?” </p><p>Intriguing how a man could change his face so quickly.</p><p>
  <em>He asked you a question.</em>
</p><p>“What I want the poor have, the rich need and if you eat it you’ll die.” One of his better riddles. Nothing less for a black and white swimmer who appeared out of the dead.</p><p>“Is this…” His brow furrowed in a wonderful way. “Are you asking me a riddle?”</p><p>Of course, he was! “Do you like riddles?”</p><p>Penguin blinked, shaking his head at him. He had curiously light eyes. “No.”</p><p>Ed paused. This was his moment. “So do you give up?”</p><p>Mr. Penguin chuckled again. Interesting that he could take a jovial exclamation and twist it into a tool to push them apart. “Friend, look here—”</p><p>And it rushed out in the way that waves cannot help rushing to the shore. “Nothing! The answer is nothing. The poor have it, the rich need it—”</p><p>Penguin stopped him continuing with a raised hand and a shake of his head. Such a command of the situation! He held the power in his palm. “Who are you?”</p><p>“Edward.” He grinned, pausing with as much drama as he could muster. “Nygma.”</p><p>Penguin stared at him blankly. He had a lot of freckles dotted on his face. The file hadn’t noted any freckles. What a shame.</p><p>“I know who <em>you</em> are.”</p><p>The fraying rope of his smile twisted as he dropped his gaze to their feet. “Then you know that you’re standing too close.”</p><p>Oh. Ed glanced down at the distance between their feet. It looked like a challenge. Pointedly, he stepped back, mustering up a tight smile. But Penguin turned away, and Ed found he couldn’t let his attention slip through his fingers just yet. “Did you know male emperor penguins keep their eggs warm by balancing them on their feet?”</p><p>Mr. Penguin turned back, his eyes blazing now, mouth set in a tight line.</p><p>“Isn’t that neat?”</p><p>Penguin took a measured step toward him. He was shorter than him, but the strength of his gaze made his legs lengthen, his torso expand until, like Alice, he was too big for such a small room. “Nice to meet you, sir. Keep moving.”</p><p>Ed didn’t want to keep moving. He wanted to stay, push Oswald down onto the M.E. slab and take the scalpel to his forehead, peel back the layers, stimulate his brain until he knew him like he knew the pulse rate of a corpse: zero.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, but the thrill of the chase.</em>
</p><p>Ed smiled. “Will do.” And, with all of his strength, he turned and walked away.</p><p>—-</p><p>Kristen smiled as she watched Ed walk away. What an adorable doof. She was glad she’d snuck down to see, even if Ed hadn’t really made the best first impression. Mr. Cobblepot seemed rather put out. She’d expected him to snap and say something rude, but he’d refrained, thankfully. Perhaps if he could handle Ed’s oddball personality the first go around, she could convince him to give the poor guy a second chance.</p><p>She started towards him, ready to introduce herself, only to backtrack when Detective Gordon got to him first. <em>Damn</em>.</p><p>She waited patiently, watching the two interact. Hmm. Mr. Cobblepot certainly seemed eager to invite Jim to his club. There was a desperate look in his eye as he leaned in, whispering something she couldn’t hear. Jim reared back, looking angry.</p><p>Well, well, well. Seemed Mr. Cobblepot had a crush.</p><p>She sighed. Poor Ed, no one deserved to play second best. But there was still a chance if Jim’s disgust was anything to go by.</p><p>Mr. Cobblepot was walking away, but he’d given Jim something, slipped a card into his hand. With a scowl, he dropped it into the trash before walking away.</p><p>Circling the officers’ desks quietly, she crept towards the trash can, dipping quickly to pluck the black card from the top. She glanced over it. <em>“Oswald’s” </em>was scrawled over it in white calligraphy. And on the back, an address.</p><p><em>Perfect</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. As I’m Sure You Know, Leaving a Stove On Unattended is a Fire Hazard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, Miss Kringle!” </p><p>Kristen threw him a smile as he looked up from his work. “It’s Kristen, Ed.”</p><p>“Miss Kringle, I wanted to apologize about before. I shouldn’t have run off on you like that.” <em>Aww, how sweet</em>.</p><p>“It’s fine, Ed,” she told him. The poor guy couldn’t help being a giant nerd.</p><p>“You see, I thought I’d left the stove on at home,” <em>Yeah, right,</em> “And so I rushed out because, as I’m sure you know, leaving a stove on, unattended, is a fire hazard.”</p><p>“Yes, I am aware,” she replied, pressing her lips together to contain her smile.</p><p>“And, you see, my apartment has a lot of wooden panelling, and a wooden floor, and it’s all quite flammable!” <em>Oh my god</em>, she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it in. “And so, you see, I was rather distressed at the thought of it burning down.”</p><p>A smirk slipped through, but she quickly quelled it. “And was the stove on?”</p><p>“Oh, umm,” Ed’s eyes shifted back and forth. “...No?”</p><p>“Oh my god, Ed!” She laughed, shaking her head at him. The man couldn’t lie for shit.</p><p>“You’re not mad, are you?” he asked, wringing his hands.</p><p>“Oh, <em>Ed</em>.” She forced herself to pause in her giggles. “Of course not.”</p><p>“Good.” His shoulders noticeably dropped, and he smiled too. “Because there was something I wanted to ask you.”</p><p>She shrugged, still smiling. “Shoot.”</p><p>“Well,” His head twitched to the side, “You know… we seem to be, um, getting… getting along, and um—”</p><p>“Yeah.” Where was he going with this? “Sure.”</p><p>“So, erm, I don’t suppose that, hmm,” Wow, he was really working himself up here. “I mean, it wouldn’t be <em>too</em> impertinent, or perhaps impertinent isn’t the word.” Yep, really working himself up. “Perhaps I mean, ah, it wouldn’t be crossing the line if I were to ask, um—”</p><p>“Just tell me what you want, Ed,” She interrupted. She couldn’t let him go on like that, the poor guy, rambling like a fifth-grader.</p><p>“To…” He coughed. “To, um, hang out with you.”</p><p><em>What</em> a goose. “Of course we can hang out, silly. I was going to suggest something anyway.”</p><p>His expression suddenly bloomed. “Oh?”</p><p>“Look what <em>I</em> found,” Grinning, she dipped her fingers into her pocket, pulling the card free. “An invitation to the opening at Mr. Cobblepot’s club!” </p><p>Oh, for god’s sake, Ed’s face changed like a kid eating chocolate for the first time. “When can we go?”</p><p>Kristen grinned. “When does your shift end?”</p><p>“In a couple hours.”</p><p>“Then in a couple of hours it is!” She allowed herself a bit of drama and pivoted on her foot, swishing her skirt as she walked away. Look out, GCPD, matchmaker coming through!</p><p>—-</p><p>“<em>What</em> are you wearing?”</p><p>Ed brushed lint off his shoulders, looking proud. “This is my best suit!”</p><p>Kristen looked him up and down, trying to keep an open mind. His shoes were light grey, his pants charcoal but several inches too short in the leg and a little too wide. His shirt and tie were… fine, but they were covered by a single-button charcoal striped blazer that hung off Ed’s shoulders like a dead thing.</p><p>But, judging by the nervous look in Ed’s eye, he was desperate to impress that Cobblepot guy, and it wouldn’t do to fray his nerves any further.</p><p>“You look lovely,” She assured him, patting his shoulder. “Now, we’re taking your car, right?”</p><p>---</p><p>Three hours wasn’t so bad in the scheme of things. When infants only lived for three hours, it was considered a tragedy because of how short it was. So, realistically, things were fine. And, truthfully, perhaps he’d chosen to open a bit early. That was his mistake.</p><p>“What’s the time now, River?” he asked the nearest bartender.</p><p>“Eight—oh—five, sir.”</p><p><em>Dammit</em>.</p><p>“Pour me another. And make sure it’s <em>chilled</em> this time.” Useless staff. How did Fish ever cope?</p><p>Muffled voices sounded out in the entrance hall, then Gabe’s obvious gruff tones as he offered to take someone's coat. </p><p>
  <em>Fucking finally.</em>
</p><p>“Welcome, friend,” he boomed, channelling as much ambience as he could.</p><p>The young red-headed woman smiled and adjusted her cardigan as she walked into the room. “Oh, well, thank you. It’s lovely to be here.”</p><p>“Isn’t it just?” He clapped his hands together. “There are plenty of drinks at the bar, and my people will be happy to mix you up something special.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you.” She seemed a little less sure this time, fiddling with her glasses. “Although, I should probably wait for Ed first.”</p><p>“Ed?” That was the second time he’d heard that name today. </p><p>“Kristen, our coat numbers are one and two! I think that’s lucky, don’t you? To be the first ones! Oh, hello.”</p><p>Oh, for fuck’s sake. This night was going to be an utter shit show. </p><p>“I don’t remember sending <em>you </em>an invitation.” Like he’d ever invite some gibbering loser whose suit was several shades of <em>wrong</em>. </p><p>“No, but you gave one to Jim Gordon,” the ginger lady said.</p><p>“Jim sent you?” Oswald cursed the way his damned heart leapt at the mention of the detective.</p><p>“More or less.” Interesting. Perhaps Jim was unable to attend—that police work of his was always rushing him off his feet—so he sent this nice lady and this… friend of Jim’s instead.</p><p>“Well.” He forced a smile. “Enjoy yourselves and feel free to take a booth.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Penguin.” The woman linked arms with her friend.</p><p>“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. God, when were the real guests going to arrive?</p><p>“Did you know penguins can recognize their chicks from their calls alone?” That Ed fellow piped up. “Isn’t that fascinating?”</p><p>“I have to talk to the band,” he gritted out, forcing himself to turn away. </p><p>“I don’t think the penguin facts are working for him,” the ginger lady commented as he walked away. “Maybe you could try complimenting him.”</p><p>God, where was Jim when you needed him? </p><p>—-</p><p>“Why not try to talk to him again?” Kristen stirred her drink slowly, shooting Ed an encouraging smile. He still seemed incredibly nervous. Fair enough; that Oswald fellow was very polite but slightly intimidating. Must come with the territory. “Ask him where he got his suit maybe? Chat about his work,” She suggested.</p><p>“Oooh, ingenious!” Ed exclaimed. “You’re really good at coming up with normal things to talk about, Kristen.”</p><p>She snorted. “Yeah, well, go get him, tiger.”</p><p>“I’m a human, Kristen. And if I were an animal, I’d be a crow. They’re highly intelligent.”</p><p>“Right.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Go get him, crow.”</p><p>“Also, the phrase ‘get him’ seems rather out-dated, don’t you th—”</p><p>“Talk to him, Ed,” she told him, using the same growling voice her mother always used.</p><p>“Oh… okay.” He turned and fled to Oswald’s side. What a dork.</p><p>Kristen looked around, taking in the club’s slightly less than booming patronage. Hmm, Mr. Cobblepot may have been having a rough night. Oh well, not much she could do about it.</p><p>Swallowing back the rest of her drink, she decided to get a second. She deserved a treat.</p><p>Sitting at the bar, she watched Ed wreak word havoc on poor Penguin. Hmm, perhaps her idea had been a little hasty judging by the man’s disparaging expression, but at least Ed looked happy. Her efforts weren’t for nothing.</p><p>---</p><p>“Did you know that the Emperor Penguin is the largest species of penguin that we know of? They stand at around four feet tall while the smallest species, the Little Blue Penguin, is only thirteen inches tall!” Edward  recited with a smile. Kristen had suggested he try talking to Mr. Penguin about his work, but he became distracted the moment he tried estimating the smaller man’s height.</p><p>Oswald was thankful for the loud music that drowned out the sound of his teeth grinding. How Jim Gordon could stand the company of this aimless puppy was beyond him. Of course, the music wasn’t what you would call a welcomed distraction either. The band was young, inexperienced, and not at all the sort of act Oswald wanted for his opening night. He was thankful his mother had decided to stay home that evening. She didn’t venture outside of their apartment very often and if she was going to attend as a guest at his club, she deserved the best. <em>This</em> was certainly not it.</p><p>“It’s just so interesting how the species can evolve so differently based on their region, diet, and predators!” Edward said, beaming. “Don’t you think so?”</p><p>Oswald didn’t bother responding. Instead, he continued to walk around and check in on his dwindling customers’ orders. He had hoped the silent treatment would communicate his disinterest, but it seemed he’d been mistaken.</p><p>“People are a lot like that, in their own way! Wouldn’t you agree?” Edward continued to follow him, blathering on, “They adapt to their surroundings and circumstances, improve upon themselves, learn new skills to fit their needs, make new friends and allies... <em>You</em> are a prime example of that, Mr. Penguin.”</p><p>“Look, <em>friend, </em>are you ready to order a drink or are you going to continue to berate me with your encyclopedic knowledge of my namesake?” he spat, pouring champagne for the band as a distraction.</p><p>“Oh… I…” Ed’s eyes flickered downward at the glasses. “I don’t really drink.”</p><p>“Well…” Oswald tried not to let his irritation override his persona as host and donned a fake smile, “Luckily, your girlfriend drinks enough for the both of you,” he gestured to the bar.</p><p>Ed turned to see that Kristen was already on her third drink. However, his mind was quick to spin around with a correction, “Oh! Miss Kringle isn’t my girlfriend! She’s just… a friend. From work. We work together.”</p><p>“And I have no doubt you have much to talk about. So, why don’t you—”</p><p>“Penguin!” Salvatore Maroni, the one man Oswald had prayed he wouldn’t see that evening, waltzed into the club flanked on either side by two of his largest guards. He instinctually spun on his heels and attempted to run away as best he could with his damned limp. </p><p>However, Don Maroni was quick to catch him, “Where you goin’?”</p><p>Oswald stopped, steeled himself for the interaction, and turned around. He straightened his posture and Edward couldn’t resist the smile that crept on his face. Watching Mr. Penguin work was inspiring. This was a man who was driven and clever and utterly ruthless. The opposite of himself in a lot of ways.</p><p>“Don Maroni, such a pleasure to see you,” Oswald’s expression hardened as he took a determined step closer to the large man in the high-end Italian suit.</p><p>“Look at you. From the trunk of my car to running your own club. The place looks good, Penguin,” he glanced around at the mostly empty club, “Hell of a turnout.”</p><p>Maroni’s men shared a laugh at Oswald’s expense. But that didn’t deter the Penguin in the slightest.</p><p>“How about a table? Drinks? My compliments, of course.”</p><p>Maroni considered him, a contemptuous scowl plastered across his face. He eyed the bottle of champagne still in the Penguin’s hand, “Expensive stuff. Let me see.”</p><p>Edward licked his lips in anticipation as he watched the scene play out in front of him. The tension in the air between Mr. Penguin and the Don made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. </p><p>Don Maroni took the bottle of champagne, “I had a little chat with Falcone.”</p><p>The air shifted, and he felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Or, at the very least, directly out of his lungs. What had started as a terse conversation between rivals quickly evolved into one that Ed knew he shouldn’t have been standing there for. But, his <em>curiosity </em>and the fact that neither man seemed to acknowledge his presence kept him glued to the spot. He’d never been interested in the mob before, but this was an opportunity to see Mr. Penguin’s cleverness first hand. He found himself unwilling to pass that up.</p><p>“I came here to let you know that all is kosher between us.” and all <em>was</em> fine until Maroni’s mockery of politeness dissolved the moment his hand collided with Oswald’s face. </p><p>Ed could feel the tips of his fingers twitch. A coldness enveloped him and, for a moment, he heard a voice compelling him to take the nearest sharp object and jam it into the Don’s eye.</p><p>“As long as you don’t go giving Falcone any more of my secrets,” Don Maroni prodded an accusatory finger at Oswald’s face.</p><p>“No,” Oswald responded with all of the poise of a snake ready to strike, “Nothing like that.”</p><p>Edward could only hope to guess what that could mean. The implication that Mr. Penguin had plans for dethroning the Don did not go unnoticed by him, watching it unfold from the sidelines was a delight.</p><p>“Of course not,” Maroni grabbed his face, possessive and domineering. There was a familiar swell of disgust in the pit of Ed’s stomach, “Grab a glass,” the Don ordered.</p><p>Oswald nodded without a second thought and turned around with an empty champagne glass. </p><p>“You better hope that old man Falcone lives a long life,” he slowly poured the expensive liquid into Oswald’s glass until it spilled over his hand and onto the floor, “Because the <em>second</em> he’s out of the picture…” he slapped Oswald’s shoulder, causing the excess liquid to slosh around in his hand, “...so are you.”</p><p>“Excuse me,” Edward finally chose to interject. Don Maroni raised an eyebrow, having only just noticed the man standing next to them, “A question for you.”</p><p>The Don let out a dismissive scoff before allowing him to continue, “What’s your deal?”</p><p>"I am of robust build but possess little brain. Heavy-browed with beetled face, you will not find me in this time or place. What am I?" Ed said, pulling the riddle from his mind automatically.</p><p>Maroni shared a look with his guards but didn’t respond, only laughed, slapping him on the shoulder before he made his way out of the club. </p><p>Edward turned back to the Penguin who was glaring daggers at the back of Don Maroni’s head. The expression was… flattering. Even Edward had to admit. It was all venom and sharp edges; a cruel eagerness that highlighted all of the Penguin’s best features. Ed wanted to see more of it.</p><p>Suddenly, the Penguin’s gaze switched over to him. His blue-green eyes pierced through his chest from the intensity of it all. Then, he smiled, “Neanderthal.”</p><p>Edward returned the smile and gave him a thumbs-up, “Correct.”</p><p>—-</p><p>
  <em>Knock, knock.</em>
</p><p>“Come in.” Kristen looked up from her desk. She had a mountain of filing to do, plus a headache from last night. Joy. “Oh, Ed, come in.”</p><p>“Thank you, Miss Kringle.” Ed closed the door behind him.</p><p>“Really, Ed? It’s Kristen.” Oops, that was harsh. God, her head hurt.</p><p>“Oh, sorry Kristen, I just thought—”</p><p>“Sorry, I’m feeling a bit rough after last night,” she explained, massaging her temples as she tried to seem more apologetic. “I don’t usually drink that much.”</p><p>“Neither do I! In fact, I think it’s rather bad for peoples’ health. I’ve seen too many destroyed livers in the lab for a lifetime.”</p><p>“Right.” She grunted, wishing for some painkillers or at least a cup of coffee.</p><p>“Are you sure this isn’t my fault?” Ed looked worried, glasses slipping down his nose.</p><p>“I’m sure, Ed.” She sighed.</p><p>“What about last night?” She shot him a <em>‘don’t remind me’</em> look. “Sorry, I… I just feel that I rather left you behind last night, and I—”</p><p>Oh, <em>that’s</em> what he was worried about. “It’s fine, Ed.”</p><p>“And I was just talking to Penguin, and—”</p><p>“It’s fine, Ed,” She repeated, smiling even though her face hurt. “That was the whole point of going: to give you a chance to talk to him.”</p><p>“Oh.” His body shifted like he’d let go of some weight. “Well, I did talk to him, so that aspect of the night was successful.”</p><p>“Yes, and it was good to see.” She stood, gathering the files heading for the M.E. room. “Now, I’m going to hand some of these over to the new medical examiner. It’ll be fun to meet her.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Kristen knocked on the door to the Medical Examiner’s office, knowing better than to just walk into the morgue, especially with the cases that Jim Gordon and the other detectives were having to deal with recently.</p><p>“Hello,” the Medical Examiner greeted her as she entered, “I’m Doctor Thompkins. You can just call me Lee.”</p><p>“Kristen Kringle,” she shook the doctor’s hand quickly, meeting her open gaze without guile. “I was told to deliver these files.” she handed over the stack with a smile. It was nice having another woman at the precinct. Especially one who already seemed so polite and friendly. It was a nice change. Guerra had always been abrasive. </p><p>And he certainly wasn’t nearly as pretty.</p><p>“Thank you. I just needed to go over the previous Medical Examiner’s notes,” Dr Thompkins explained, brushing her hair over her shoulder.</p><p>“Good luck. Dr. Guerra was notorious for not taking adequate notes,” Kristen said as she recalled all of the times Captain Essen and the others would lament his inability to do his job properly. Edward was also not particularly quiet about his dislike of Dr. Guerra’s work. Kristen suspected that Ed likely had a hand in his abrupt dismissal, and she was curious where Ed had found all of the body parts he had stuffed into the doctor’s locker. At the end of the day though, Kristen felt that it was best that she <em>didn’t</em> know.</p><p>“So I’m told,” Lee said with a smile. “I had <em>quite</em> the conversation with Mr. Nygma this morning about the previous Medical Examiner,” Lee chuckled. She’d been introduced to the forensic tech when she was setting up her desk. Or, rather, he took it upon himself to bombard her with a series of riddles and bizarre facts about memory and olfactory receptors after he caught a whiff of her perfume. He was certainly a character. Though, admittedly, he was not any more bizarre than the individuals she had to deal with at Arkham, staff or otherwise.</p><p>Kristen couldn’t help but chuckle at the image that popped into her head of Edward introducing himself. “I hope Mr Nygma didn’t cause you too much trouble. He can seem… odd.”</p><p>“No trouble at all. He’s sweet,” She gave Kristen a friendly nudge. “He talked a lot about you.”</p><p>“We’re just friends,” Kristen pointed out and cringed slightly at all of the things Edward likely said about her.</p><p>“Uh huh,” Lee didn't quite buy that but chose not to say anything to the contrary.</p><p>Kristen cleared her throat, hoping that Ed didn’t overshare any details concerning their little scheme against Officer Dougherty, “What exactly did he say about me?”sShe adjusted her glasses.</p><p>“Just that you two were good friends,” Lee assured her, “He also talked a lot about someone named Oswald. Does he work here, too?”</p><p>“No. He owns a club not too far from here,” Kristen grinned mischievously, leaning in with a conspiratory whisper and getting a whiff of her lovely perfume, “I think Edward might have a little bit of a crush.”</p><p>“Does he?” Lee raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t deny that Mr. Nygma had seemed rather enamoured by this Oswald fellow. Though, she suspected Ed’s crush leaned more towards Kristen based on how long he talked about her eye color. And, looking at Kristen now, Edward had been right. Her eyes <em>did</em> resemble emeralds, expensive ones at that, “Is this Oswald the same one I’ve overheard Jim talking about?”</p><p>“Most likely. They have history,” she whispered that last part.</p><p>“History?” Lee asked, curiosity taking over her. Jim had made a frustrating point not to talk about work. He absolutely refused to talk about Oswald, and he would become irritable or strangely quiet anytime the subject got brought up. He could be so difficult to be around at times.</p><p>“I certainly wouldn’t want to gossip about your boyfriend. Buuut…” Kristen smiled. Lee returned it. Gosh, it was nice to have someone to share secrets with!</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“Mr Cobblepot made an appearance here at the precinct not long ago. Caused quite the scene. I don’t know all of the details but he had some kind of connection to Detective Gordon and Detective Bullock.”</p><p>“I see,” Lee nodded. From the sound of it, he was a particularly stubborn thorn in their sides. </p><p>“It’s nice, though, that you’re with Jim,” Kristen said, eager to continue the conversation.</p><p>“Yes,” Lee placed a smile over her face, “We’re very happy together.” Very, <em>very</em> happy, she reminded herself. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”</p><p>“No,” Kristen shrugged, looking at the floor. “I’m single right now.”</p><p>“You should enjoy it,” Lee told her, “I miss being single.”</p><p>“Really?” Kristen asked.</p><p>“All the time!” she confirmed. “You know what, we should hang out more. I’ll show you how to have a good time.”</p><p>“That sounds nice,” she grinned. “I don’t know why, but I just feel like we’re going to be <em>best friends</em>.”</p><p>“Absolutely!” Lee nodded, “The bestest best friends.”
</p><p>—-</p><p>“Dr. Guerra certainly left me with a mountain of work,” Lee handed the files to Jim along with Ed’s meticulous corrections, “Here are the files from the Crane case.”</p><p>“Thank you, Dr. Thompkins,” Jim smiled politely </p><p>Lee rolled her eyes at the formality. Jim still wasn’t used to the idea of them working together at the precinct. Privately, Lee thought he needed to get over himself.</p><p>“No problem. Are we still on for tonight?” she smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, suddenly all too aware of her appearance as she confirmed her plans with Jim.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jim smiled, warmer and more genuine, and then cleared his throat at the knowing look Harvey gave him.</p><p>“You two goin’ on a date?” Harvey asked.</p><p>“I got us tickets to Haley’s Circus tonight,” Lee smiled. She hadn’t been to the circus since she was little and was excited to finally have some fun with Jim that evening.</p><p>“The circus? Isn’t the precinct enough of a circus?” Harvey teased. </p><p>Jim rolled his eyes and pretended to busy himself with the files. He recognized the handwriting on several of the corrections, “Nygma write these?”</p><p>“He did. He’s pretty thorough,” she said, “He apparently took it upon himself to do his own autopsies.”</p><p>“Yeah. He does that.” Harvey scoffed, “The Captain caught him red-handed digging around a vic’s insides.”</p><p>“And you should thank him. He caught on to the fact that the victims were missing their adrenal glands,” she recalled. “It’s nice to have someone so proactive about solving these cases.”</p><p>“Look, if you wanna let him have free reign of the morgue, be my guest,” Harvey threw his hands up in surrender.</p><p>“I think I will. It might be nice having an assistant,” she said. “Speaking of Ed…”</p><p>“What about him?” Jim raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Well… I was just speaking with Miss Kringle, and she said that he has a crush on a mutual friend of yours.”</p><p>“Oh?” Harvey smirked, leaning forward in his chair, “Did she tell you who?”</p><p>“Oswald Cobblepot.”</p><p>“...Could you repeat that? I think I must have something in my ears because it sounded an awful lot like you just said Nygma had a crush on <em>Oswald Cobblepot.”</em></p><p>“That’s because I did,” Lee rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Jim… I’m gonna need you to slap me as hard as you can because I’m pretty sure I am having the most surreal nightmare right now, and I want out.”</p><p>“Kristen Kringle told you this?” Jim stared at her in disbelief.</p><p>“She did,” Lee crossed her arms. “Why is it so hard to believe?”</p><p>“Doc, trust me when I tell you that Cobblepot is the <em>worst</em> kind of weasel,” Harvey shook his head. “Though, I guess I can’t be surprised that someone like Nygma would crush on the likes of him.”</p><p>Jim shifted uncomfortably in his chair.</p><p>“What’s <em>that</em> supposed to mean?” she glared.</p><p>“Look, all I’m saying is that they’re both not right in the head,” Harvey explained, “Hell, maybe that means they’re perfect for each other. Who knows?”</p><p>“Well, I happen to like Ed,” Lee turned her attention to Jim who had made a point of keeping his opinion to himself, “Maybe we could help him out.”</p><p>Jim slowly turned his head towards Lee and gave her a look of disbelief, “Help him out?”</p><p>“Sure. Why not? You know Cobblepot.”</p><p>“Not happening,” he turned back to the files.</p><p>“Harvey?” Lee tried with a scowl.</p><p>“Don’t look at me,” Harvey pulled out his flask and attempted to drown out the image he had of the two of them together.</p><p>Lee sighed, “Do you have Cobblepot’s number at least?”</p><p>Jim kept his gaze down at his desk. He didn’t want to have to look Harvey in the eye and admit he had the criminal’s number in his phone. He’d <em>never</em> hear the end of it. After a moment, he glanced up and saw that Harvey had completely turned around in his chair and was drowning at the bottom of his flask. He risked a look at Lee who was still standing next to him and, boy… <em>if looks could kill</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. KK: I Never Realized You Had Such Morbid Interests.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You look like you’ve got this autopsy handled. Mind if I get a head start on some of those files?” Lee asked, already removing her gloves. She was eager to get to see Kristen again. They’d only just met but they had become fast friends.</p><p>“Okie dokie.” Edward licked his lips as he positioned the steristrips along either side of a stab wound so he could measure the length and depth.</p><p>It didn’t take Edward long to piece together what happened to their victim.</p><p>Male. Caucasian. Average height. Italian cologne and expensive suit. The hem of his pants were starting to fray, indicating it might have been the man’s one and only suit. He likely spent a lot of time walking around and running errands for his work. His hair was full of product and slicked back into a lacquered helmet. There were scars and some bruising on the knuckles of his right hand with distinctive marks indicating that he had used brass knuckles shortly before being stabbed to death.</p><p>Edward deposited the man’s belongings into evidence bags and set them aside. He suspected that they’d find connections to the mob once they cross-referenced the numbers on the phone.</p><p>He pulled the microphone down and pressed the button on the side, relishing the feel of it in his hand now that he didn’t have to worry about that imbecile Guerra walking in on him and interrupting his train of thought, “Stab wounds appear to be from a double-sided blade approximately seven inches in length and an inch wide. Possibly an Italian stiletto. Will need to map out some stab markings in order to prove that theory later…”</p><p>He inserted a tool into the wound on the cadaver’s abdomen, “Wounds are at an upward angle implying that the culprit was much shorter than our victim. Estimated around five foot six inches…”</p><p>Edward took a moment to shake the image of the Penguin stalking through the GCPD out of his head. He set his tools aside and began examining the residue under the man’s fingernails. He removed a few strands of hair, some skin samples, and dried blood.</p><p>The hair was short. Black.</p><p>
  <em>The bird must have been busy.</em>
</p><p>Ed took a moment to stare at the evidence lined up on the examination table. It was obvious to him how the scene played out: Mr. John Doe had a disagreement with the Penguin and was quickly dispatched in a fit of anger. His body was thrown into the river but it washed up on the shores of Gotham Bay and now he was sitting on the slab in front of him.</p><p>“What to do.” he thought out loud. If his assessment was correct, which it often was, then this could undoubtedly connect Mr. Penguin to the murder and grant him a one-way ticket to Blackgate. That certainly wouldn’t do.</p><p>Ed pulled a bottle of oxidizing bleach solution from under the sink and poured it into a spray bottle. He thoroughly coated John Doe’s hands and nails. The solution would quickly begin breaking down the hemoglobin and destroying the DNA evidence. </p><p>What a shame.</p><p>—-</p><p>Lee was grateful that she could entrust the autopsy with Edward so she could take her break early. Things at home had been hectic, to say the least. She and Jim were on the fringes and the fake smiles and buttery laughs were beginning to take their toll. But, at least she could say that she hadn’t completely lost her edge when it came to dealing with him.</p><p>She knocked on the door to the record’s annex with the biggest grin on her face and Oswald Cobblepot’s number written on a scrap of paper.</p><p>“Hello, Lee. Can I help you with something?” Kristen asked. </p><p>“Nope. Just a special delivery.” She handed Kristen the scrap of paper with a gleaming smile, “Took some convincing but Jim eventually gave it to me.”</p><p>Kristen made an inhuman sound as she tucked the paper away, “Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?”</p><p>“Of course!” Lee smiled, “I don’t mind helping Ed out. It’s kind of exciting. Besides, He’s a sweet guy and deserves to be happy.”</p><p>“Good afternoon, Miss Krin- Kristen!” Ed walked into the room with another stack of corrected medical notes, “And Doctor Thompkins.”</p><p>“Please, Ed. Just call me Lee.”</p><p>“Lee,” Ed corrected himself “I see you’ve met Kristen.”</p><p>“I have.” She winked in Kristen’s direction.</p><p>“I’ll take those files, Edward.” Kristen held out her hand, “I’ll bring them by the morgue once they’re catalogued.”</p><p>“Thanks, Kristen. I look forward to seeing you for coffee later.” Lee said as she left the record’s room and headed back to her own office.</p><p>“You two are getting coffee later?” Ed asked, handing over the files</p><p>“Yeah. I’m going with her and Jim before their date tonight. Apparently this new place opened up that’s been making waves. The owner is very particular when it comes to his coffee,” she told him, “Would you like to join us?”</p><p>“Of course!” Ed grinned ear to ear, “Do you want me to pick you up? I promise I won’t ditch you like I did last night.” </p><p>“I have some errands to run after work. I can just take the bus.” she held out her hand, “Why don’t I give you my number?”</p><p>Ed blushed, “Your number? Y-you want to give me your number?”</p><p>“Yes.” She continued to hold out her hand, “Your phone?”</p><p>“What? Oh! Yes…” he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his lab coat and placed it in the palm of her hand.</p><p>Kristen turned around and flipped open the menu on Edward’s phone. She carefully pulled out the slip of paper Lee had given her and added the number to his phone under her own name.The thought of doing something she ought not to made her nose tingle. Delight bubbled inside her as she pushed forward with clever ploy and she made a silent prayer that it wouldn’t end in disaster.</p><p>“Here you go!” she gave him back his phone and tried to hide her nervousness under a playful giggle, “We’re meeting Jim and Lee at Robinson Park before going to the coffee shop. I’ll text you.”</p><p>“I look forward to it.” Ed was practically vibrating. He’d been so worried that he’d ruined his chances of ever hanging out with Kristen after how poorly their first date had gone.</p><p>“I really should get to work sorting these files so I can get them to Lee.” Kristen lifted the files in reference.</p><p>“Yes! Right. Of course.” Edward stammered, “I will just… leave you to it then.”</p><p>He practically skipped out of the room and Kristen tried not to let the reality of the mess she was about to cause overwhelm her. She would have to be careful with how she handled the rest of her scheme or she very well could ruin everything. But the thrill of it smothered her anxiety and she grinned from ear to ear.</p><p>Once she knew for certain that Edward was far enough away, she pulled out her own phone and the scrap of paper containing Mr Cobblepot’s number.</p><p>—-</p><p>Oswald was determined to make this evening far more successful than the grand opening the day before. Unfortunately, fate wasn’t on his side.</p><p>He had a list of entertainers and not a single one had returned his calls. The band from the opening had been the only ones to book his stage and, to say he was unimpressed with their previous performance would’ve been an understatement. He really shouldn’t have allowed his eagerness to overwhelm him. He should have spent more time making sure everything was perfect before opening the club to the public. Tonight was going to be different. He had an ace up his sleeve that he was certain his attendees would appreciate.</p><p>Oswald had just finished cleaning the last of the glasses at the bar when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number.</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: It’s Jim. I need a favor.</em>
</p><p>Oswald couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a loon. He pressed the call button but was disappointed when it only rang once before going to a generic voicemail message.</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: Sorry. Police work. Can’t answer the phone. Is text alright?</em>
</p><p>Oswald frowned. Jim was the only one with the number to his personal phone but there was still an itch at the back of his mind warning him not to trust whomever was on the other end. However, there was a completely different part of him that desperately wanted to trust it so long as it meant he could spend more time with Jim Gordon.</p><p>
  <em>Me: I don’t recognize the number. How do I know it’s you?</em>
</p><p>Oswald sat at the bar and stared at the phone. Nothing else mattered at that moment.</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: This is my work phone. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your club last night. I gave my invitation to some friends of mine. Hope that was alright?</em>
</p><p>Oswald huffed. He didn’t suppose anyone else knew about him giving Jim the invitation. It was possible someone had seen them but, he decided it was worth the risk.</p><p>
  <em>Me: Of course, my friend. No need to apologize. How can I assist?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: Can we meet at Robinson Park? We can get a coffee.</em>
</p><p>He stared at the text. Why was Jim being so friendly? Perhaps he truly did feel awful about not attending the opening of his club and for rejecting their friendship when he delivered the invitation. Come to think of it, he may have been trying to maintain appearances. Oswald couldn’t help the flutter at the pit of his stomach. Jim Gordon was asking him to go get a coffee! Nevermind the fact that he personally couldn’t stand the taste of it.</p><p>
  <em>Me: I would love to get coffee.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: Perfect. I’m off duty in a few hours. Let’s meet at 4pm by the statue of Lady Gotham.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And text me a reminder. I’m forgetful. I’ll message you my personal number. </em>
</p><p>After a few moments he heard another buzz on his phone and he felt like he was floating as he added the number to his contacts. </p><p>He checked his pocket watch for the time. He had a few hours before his meeting with Jim which gave him just enough time to prepare for his mother’s performance at the club. His evening was getting better by the second.</p><p>—-</p><p>Edward paced around his apartment. It had been a few hours since he got off work and Kristen hadn’t yet reached out to him. Perhaps she’d forgotten? Or maybe something had happened? </p><p>The voice at the back of his mind was rambling a mile a minute, conjuring all sorts of scenarios in which his evening could go wrong. His lack of people skills were not unknown to him. His conversations with Mr Penguin were enough to highlight that glaring fact for him.</p><p>Ed was pulled from his wayward thoughts by the vibration in his pocket. He nearly dropped his phone in his haste to look at the message.</p><p>
  <em>KK: Robinson Park. The bench by the statue of Lady Gotham. 4pm.</em>
</p><p>The message was very abrupt and to the point. He looked at the clock on his wall. It was already three o’clock. He had an hour to get ready. He quickly added the number to his contacts before responding.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Gotcha! See you soon.</em>
</p><p>He could feel his face growing warm as he pressed ‘Send.’</p><p>
  <em>KK: I look forward to seeing you there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ed: As do I.</em>
</p><p>He blushed, glancing at himself in the mirror. He’d opted to wear something simpler for their coffee date. Grey slacks and a green sweater over one of his favorite plaid shirts. He tousled his hair to one side and hoped that he didn’t look too boyish. Kristen tended to favour men who were on the opposite end of the spectrum from himself. Tall and broad shouldered. Chiseled chins and low IQs.</p><p>It hadn’t taken him much time to get ready. If he left now, he would be thirty minutes early and it was cold enough out that sitting on the park bench for that long might sour his mood.</p><p>
  <em>KK: Any interesting cases you’re working on?</em>
</p><p>He smiled. At least Kristen would keep him company before he left for the park!</p><p>
  <em>Ed: “I am the simplest foe to face but cost the most to fare. I can possess anything but never stop to reap. I can tangle men throughout their lives despite my brittle snare. I have no form, yet plague your dreams and rob you of your sleep. What am I?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: A riddle? Really? Why must you torture me?</em>
</p><p>He chuckled. Kristen never did appreciate his riddles but that never stopped him from asking them.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Do you give up?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: Certainly not… Is the answer fear?</em>
</p><p>Edward squealed. Kristen had never tried answering his riddles before. And she’d actually figured out the answer! She was so clever.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Excellent work! The answer is fear! We just finished up all of the paperwork from the Crane case. A doozy that one.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: So I hear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ed: It is fascinating though! The missing adrenal glands in particular are certainly intriguing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: I never realized you had such morbid interests.</em>
</p><p>Ed frowned.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Sorry. I guess that’s strange.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: Not at all. It’s just surprising.</em>
</p><p>He laughed out loud as relief washed over him.</p><p>
  <em>KK: Tell me more?</em>
</p><p>Ed grinned. Kristen always seemed disgusted by the work he did. She understood it’s necessity to the precinct, of course, but she also made a point of telling him that she was in no way interested in the more graphic details. So having her show interest now made his heart flutter.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Adrenal glands aren’t worth much on the black market. Which means that the killer wanted them for something else.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: I would know if they were worth anything.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: What’s your theory?</em>
</p><p>He bounced his leg up and down in excitement. </p><p>
  <em>Ed: Adrenal glands are only good for one purpose: Creating adrenaline. But considering the fear the victim was experiencing during their death, the adrenaline harvested at the time would have been highly concentrated.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: What does that mean?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ed: It would be highly potent! A lot stronger than usual.</em>
</p><p>He checked the clock as he waited for a reply. He could potentially leave soon and not have to wait too long outside.</p><p>
  <em>KK: You are a lot smarter than your peers give you credit for.</em>
</p><p>Ed felt heat rush to his cheeks and he was suddenly standing, tapping his foot.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Thank you!</em>
</p><p>He checked the clock.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Now I better go! I don’t want to be late.</em>
</p><p>He gathered his things before checking his phone one last time.</p><p>
  <em>KK: You better not be late. I would hate to have to dump you in the river.</em>
</p><p>Ed laughed at the odd message and scampered out the door.</p><p>—-</p><p>For the third time in a row, Lee’s fingers slipped on the clasp of her necklace. </p><p>She exhaled. </p><p>“Need any help?” Jim’s tone was bland; his eyes fixed on some distant point, hands in his pockets. </p><p>“No, thanks,” She blinked and hooked the clasp painfully under her nail, finally managing to lock it. </p><p>“Ready to go, then?”</p><p>“Jim—” She turned her face away and closed her eyes to ward off the pointless irritation. </p><p>Slowly, she considered her feelings. Another burst of anger clouded them. </p><p>“Just give me a few more minutes, okay?” she asked as pleasantly as she could, managing a hint of a smile over her shoulder. </p><p>She would not be bested by a coffee date. It was for the greater good. </p><p>The necklace slid off and dropped down the front of her shirt, the half-closed clasp coming undone. She swore under her breath and dug it out of her bra, annoyed at the thing and annoyed at the fact she was annoyed, when on another day, Jim and her might’ve laughed about this together. </p><p>“Let me help.” Jim approached, joining her reflection in the mirror. </p><p>She grit her teeth and smiled, holding the two ends up for him. </p><p>She felt the warmth of his hands resting on the nape of her neck; they didn’t linger the way they might have a while ago, and she only looked down and waited. Jim was a good guy. Jim didn’t deserve, ultimately, to be treated the way she was forcing herself not to treat him. She smiled up at him in the mirror. </p><p>He smiled back, a little flat, and returned to his work. She used to pride herself on being able to read him in any situation; but she had grown so used to him, his face and presence, so much that from comfortable it had shifted to obligatory. And it wasn’t anything he had done, it wasn’t anything she could pinpoint if asked — but not speaking about it still made it worse. She took another slow breath. Possibly the hundredth, now. </p><p>It had occurred to her, a few times now, to discuss this with a friend. Kristen, maybe. But to admit it to an outside party felt oddly like a betrayal, and worse than that, to admit it would be to make it real, when she still sometimes lived in hope that this was only a rough patch, a moment of weakness. A test of their relationship. </p><p>But coffee, meeting new people was —fun. To say she wasn’t curious about one Oswald Cobblepot would be a lie; especially when the things she <em>had </em>heard about him were shady at best. It was nothing quite dramatic but enough to make him interesting, and enough to — maybe — let Ed’s apparent crush take her mind off her own issues. </p><p>“Lee.” Jim had long since lowered his hands.</p><p>“We’re going to be late.” She stepped away and picked her purse up from the sofa, going through it nervously, not really looking at the contents. </p><p>He raised his eyebrows. “<em>Now</em> you’re in a hurry.”</p><p>“Don’t start,” she bit back under her breath, then paused, glancing up to gauge his reaction. </p><p>He was frowning but not angry; Jim rarely got outright angry at her, but his face would draw still and cold, and his shoulders squaring tensely. She pursed her lips, swallowed, and ran a hand over her hair. Part of her wanted to suggest they talk it out once they get back; part of her didn’t <em>want </em>to talk it out. </p><p>She moved her purse into the crook of her elbow and cleared her throat. Jim opened the door for her a little harsher than necessary. </p><p>They didn’t say a word.</p><p>———-</p><p>Despite Edward leaving his apartment with twenty minutes to spare, he still arrived earlier than intended. No harm done. But as he walked up to the statue, he found a familiar yet unexpected face staring at him instead. </p><p>“Hello, Mr. Penguin.” Edward adjusted his glasses as he approached the bench and hoped that this would be a better interaction than his previous ones.</p><p>“Hello, Arnold.” Penguin rolled his eyes.</p><p>“It’s Edward,” he corrected and hoped that the bad taste the name <em>Arnold</em> left in his mouth didn’t show on his face. The only Arnold he knew was Flass and that man had been one of the worst of his kind at the precinct.</p><p>“Whatever.” Penguin stared at his pocket watch.</p><p>“Are you waiting for someone?” Ed asked, observing the antique in Penguin’s hand. It looked inexpensive but well loved. The glass was clouded with scratches. The thin gold plating near the hinges had mostly worn off and revealed the cheaper metal underneath. Edward deduced that it might have been a thrifted item Oswald had treated himself to before he came into much money. </p><p>“That’s really none of your business.” Cobblepot answered, snapping the pocket watch closed.</p><p>“Yes… Sorry. I wasn’t meaning to intrude… I just…” he chuckled nervously, “I’m meeting someone as well.”</p><p>“Good for you.”</p><p>Penguin gave him a look. One that wasn’t that dissimilar to the one he was given that day at the bullpen when Ed had so desperately wanted to continue his poking and prodding of the man’s brain.</p><p>There was just… <em>something</em> about him. It was a compulsion he couldn’t ignore. A vibration in the well of his stomach and the deepest recesses of his mind. Those darker impulses that he had tamped down over the years slowly bubbling to the surface the longer he was in the smaller man’s presence. It was why he had stolen the photograph from his file. He hoped that staring at it would somehow reveal the answers to his questions.</p><p>He decided that it might be best not to bother Mr. Penguin anymore than he already had. He was content with observing him from afar so he positioned himself a polite distance away while still being in eye shot of the bench.</p><p>He checked his watch. It was already ten minutes past four. Odd. It wasn’t like Kristen to be late. Perhaps he should have insisted on giving her a ride. Gotham’s public transit was notoriously unreliable. </p><p>He sighed. Rather loudly. Oswald bristled at the noise and glared in his direction. Edward cleared his throat and began fishing his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his texts in an attempt to busy himself. It was easy to fall back into old habits from his childhood and make himself as small as possible so as not to annoy anyone nearby.</p><p>Oswald noticed how the strange man’s posture changed. Like he was caving in on himself. It reminded him a lot of how he used to be around Fish Mooney. Always trying to blend into the background and appear unassuming before his treachery had been revealed. Perhaps this man was doing the same? It was difficult to tell. Something about this whole situation reeked of conspiracy, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.</p><p>Several minutes passed and the annoying man in green had started pacing. Oswald bit the insides of his cheeks until the constant fidgeting and sighing became too unbearable of a distraction. He wouldn’t tolerate being put in a sour mood before his coffee date with Jim.</p><p>“Arnold— Edward… <em>whatever</em> your name is, you’re making me dizzy. Just sit down.” he rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Oh… a thousand apologies, Mr Penguin!” Edward clapped his hands together in a pleading gesture, “I don’t mind standing—”</p><p>“Sit. Down.” he growled. His mouth curled into a tight smile that scrunched his nose. Edward was quick to obey the order, keeping space between them.</p><p>After several more minutes of waiting, the man pulled out his phone again.</p><p>Oswald’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, reading the message.</p><p>
  <em>Jim: Do you need a ride?</em>
</p><p>He smiled. Jim was certainly being polite. First inviting him out to coffee and then offering to pick him up? This must be an important favor if Jim was willing to butter him up...</p><p>
  <em>Me: No. I’m already at the park. You’re late.</em>
</p><p>The man next to him shifted, his fingers clicking loudly as he presumably typed a message to whomever he was waiting for. </p><p>His phone buzzed.</p><p>
  <em>Jim: Am I at the wrong place? I arrived early.</em>
</p><p>The coincidental coordination of their phones did not go unnoticed by Oswald. He typed out his message and then looked directly at Edward before hitting ‘Send.’ And, as he suspected, he heard the man’s phone buzz.</p><p>
  <em>Me: Where are you?</em>
</p><p>Edward looked around and bit his lip when he didn’t see Kristen anywhere. Maybe he was at the wrong park? Did he miss a message and they were supposed to meet at the coffee shop instead?</p><p><em>Jim: I’m at the statue.</em> <em>Where are you?</em></p><p>Oswald shook his head. This man was either a brilliant actor or a complete buffoon.</p><p>
  <em>Me: At the statue.</em>
</p><p>Edward read the message and slowly turned towards Mr Penguin. Realization poured over him like hot tar and feathers.</p><p>“...Oh, dear.”</p><p>Before he could vomit forth his string of apologies, they were interrupted by a familiar voice.</p><p>“There you are!” Lee called out to them, “Sorry, we’re a few minutes late.”</p><p>She and Jim strolled up to the bench. Jim was a few steps behind her as she dragged him along. He looked everywhere except at the two men on the park bench. He <em>really</em> did not want to be there.</p><p>“A <em>few?</em>” Oswald scoffed as he looked at the time on his pocket watch. Not only were they nearly fifteen minutes late but there was a beautiful <em>woman</em> hanging on Jim’s arm. Worst of all, it was obvious to him now that Jim hadn’t even been the one to invite them out to coffee.</p><p>“You ready to go?” Lee asked, “There’s a coffee shop just around the corner that I think you’ll like.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t we wait for Kristen?” Edward hoped that it was all just a horrible misunderstanding.</p><p>“Oh… Kristen said she couldn’t make it.” Lee explained.</p><p>“She did?” he could cry.</p><p>“Yeah. She said you were bringing a friend instead.” Lee motioned to Oswald. A sly grin on her face.</p><p>Ed looked at the series of texts on the screen. He wasn’t sure if he should feel betrayed or not. Kristen must have had <em>some</em> reason for tricking him, but it was still cruel.</p><p>Oswald just laughed, stood, and shook his head at his own foolishness. Of<em> course</em> Jim hadn’t been the one texting him! He should have known that was too good to be true. The detective had a way of spoon-feeding affection if he needed something and then being quick to spit in his face the moment he no longer had use of him. Typical. He supposed he should be used to it by now but the pain in his chest was still there. He was going to have to find out more about this woman named Kristen that had hoodwinked him into coming along. He looked over at the man next to him. He almost felt bad for him. Almost...</p><p>“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to intrude on your little outing.” he raked his hands down the front of his suit, correcting his posture in an attempt to regain his lost confidence.</p><p>“You won’t be joining us then?” The woman on Jim’s arm asked, her disappointment evident.</p><p>“No. I’m afraid I won’t be—”</p><p>“—Of course he is. Right, Oswald?” Jim attempted a smile. The fact that he was allowing himself to play along with this little game was already giving him a headache. But, if it meant Oswald might get out of his hair, it would be worth it in the end. Provided Nygma wasn’t in harm’s way, of course.</p><p>“I… well…” Oswald stammered. He and Jim locked eyes. He sighed and then turned his attention back towards Edward, “Shall we then?”</p><p>—-</p><p>Lee had thought that convincing Oswald to join them for coffee would be the lion’s share of the work. She was discovering, to her horror, that this was only the beginning. </p><p>“Please, Peng—Oswald. Just <em>order</em> something and let the poor girl go,” Jim said, “You’re terrifying her.” </p><p>Oswald broke eye contact with the white-faced server to turn his focus to Jim. “I was just explaining to this nice girl,” he motioned to her, an unsettling smile spread across his face, before turning back to him, “what a shame it is that she’s wasting her talents in an establishment that claims to be a café, yet there’s not a tea bag in sight. That’s unheard of, wouldn’t you think? We never would’ve had an oversight like this at my club. Maybe you would’ve known that if you had bothered to show up.” </p><p>Jim fixed him with a withering look, and Lee hastily stepped in before the skirmish could begin. </p><p>“I think that’ll be all for us, thank you!” she said to the server.</p><p>With a terrified nod, the server left and a tense silence enveloped the table. </p><p>Jim was the one to break it. “I hope you’re happy now, Oswald.” He scowled.</p><p>Lee spotted the flash of hurt in Oswald’s eyes and wondered if she’d have to jump in once more. </p><p>But then Oswald laughed and shook his head and that flicker was gone. “Perfectly content, old friend.”</p><p>The group returned to their stilted silence. Lee hazarded a glance across the table at Ed, who hadn’t said a word since the park, save for his coffee order. His eyes were turned in the direction of the small jar of espresso beans decorating their table, yet his gaze was unfocused. She couldn’t be quite sure if he’d caught so much of a word of the exchange. </p><p>“Ed?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Ed? You in there?”</p><p>He startled back into the present with a small sound. “Oh, umm, sorry. I was just… thinking.” </p><p>His eyes darted downwards again, and Lee wondered if this could have something to do with Kristen’s ploy. </p><p>“Hey, Ed.” She cleared her throat and reached to tap his shoulder. “I heard from Kristen that you went to Oswald’s club.” She looked between the two. “How was it?”</p><p>“I had a nice time.” Ed’s smile was tight and faded quickly. </p><p>She licked her lips. Perhaps a different tactic. “I think that’s pretty exciting, owning a club. Wouldn’t you agree, Ed?”</p><p>He simply nodded this time. Dammit.</p><p>She glanced away, looking around the shop. Couples and groups sat together having normal conversations and enjoying each other’s company. She noticed the mustachioed barista at the counter looking at her as he went about cleaning a glass. She quickly turned away, adjusting her blouse. “Well, this is nice.”</p><p>Finally, Jim lost his patience. </p><p>“I’m going to go check on our order.” He stood and marched towards the front counter before Lee could register what was happening. She sprang up in turn and turned towards the pair. “I’ll be right back. Try not to get into any troub—”</p><p>Gunshots burst through the window. Lee was hugging the ground before she realized that she’d reacted. The front door slammed open and two pairs of boots stormed into the café.</p><p>“If you wanna get paid, Boss says to shoot him on sight!” a voice barked through the screams and chaos. </p><p>She was faintly aware of two writhing bodies next to her. She turned her head and saw that Ed had tackled the smaller man to the ground. His arm wrapped protectively over Oswald’s head, shielding him from the gunfire.</p><p>“Found you.” one of the assassins aimed his gun at the two men on the floor, “Sorry. Nothin’ personal.”</p><p>“You’ll regret this!” Oswald spat</p><p>“GCPD! Put your hands up!” Lee recognized Jim’s voice. She tried to crane her neck to get a better look at the situation, but another blast of gunfire ricocheted from behind her and once more she dived for cover. </p><p>There was a volley of gunfire and the moustachioed barista emerged from behind the counter wielding a shotgun. The assassin looming over the Penguin and Ed was blasted off of his feet. His partner cut his losses and bolted out the broken window.</p><p>The smoke had barely cleared when Jim was at her side. </p><p>“Lee, are you ok?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” her heart hammered in her chest.</p><p>She opened her mouth to elaborate but was interrupted by a blood-curdling howl. The room went silent as all eyes shifted to the figures on the floor. Oswald laid next to the table, clutching at his leg. Ed, sprawled next to him, didn’t seem to know what to do. He extended a hand in the direction of the injured leg in some sort of placating gesture, only to be smacked away. </p><p>“You stepped <em>right on it</em>,” Penguin hissed.</p><p>“I’m sorry! I was trying to get off of you so you could stand and—”</p><p>Ed’s encroaching hand was slapped away once more, and Penguin shakily climbed to his feet, gripping the table with white knuckles for support. </p><p>“You should have never returned to Gotham, Oswald.” Jim growled</p><p>“You bring the mob into my sacred house!” The moustachioed barista exclaimed from behind the counter, holstering his shotgun. </p><p>“How is this <em>my</em> fault?”Oswald groaned as he attempted to steady himself. He turned toward Jim and glared, “These were Falcone assassins. I was obviously <em>not</em> the target!”</p><p>“Then why—”</p><p>Oswald screamed when he attempted to shift his weight over to his bad ankle.</p><p>“Mr. Penguin! Let me—”</p><p>Oswald held up a hand to silence the brunette before he could attempt to assist him further. He pointed an accusing finger straight at him, “Don’t think I’ll forget this!”</p><p>“Noted.” Ed swallowed. He stood there like a statue as the Penguin limped out of the café. He looked around at the glass and splintered wood that littered the floor before looking up at Jim and Lee.</p><p>“Thanks for the coffee.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Or Else</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ed was being followed.</p><p>It hadn’t been obvious at first, he’d give them that. But Ed had spent much of his life being ignored, fading into the background, that he was always hyper aware when he felt eyes on him. Though he had no idea <em>why</em> he was being followed. He was a no one. Even his work at the GCPD didn’t make him anyone of note. Half of the cops were on the mob payroll already so a lowly forensic scientist was no one of interest in the grand scheme of things.</p><p>But someone was definitely following him. Ed had driven a large loop as he left the precinct, and the same black car, unremarkable in a way that was almost cliche, was still trailing him at a modest distance even despite the occasional traffic. Ed had experimentally ran a yellow light, and his hypothesis was only confirmed when the car behind him sped through the resulting red.</p><p>Ed eyed them at the next red light in his rearview mirror, unable to make out the driver’s features. He considered what to do next.</p><p>Ed had no experience losing a tail, but it was, in the end, not too dissimilar to another puzzle where the maze was the city streets instead. He ran through his mental map of the city, planning the best potential route to lose the man while driving by taking advantage of some of the more unique city block designs. He factored in the current traffic—not as busy as ideal but doable.</p><p>He spent the next twenty minutes leading his tail on a merry chase through Gotham, driving through the Diamond District to the West Side, hoping that the irregular blocks might assist in some vehicular confusion.</p><p>He finally lost them after pulling a maneuver that involved a precarious u-turn, a city bus, and a small gaggle of nuns crossing the street and breathed a sigh of relief. He allowed himself a moment to idle at a stop sign, trying to calm his racing heart.</p><p>Ed was jarred out of his trance when he heard the worrying sound of metal scratching and a jostle of his car. He panicked, looking around for the cause.</p><p>“Oh my god, dude,” someone said from behind him, noticing the other driver in the rearview mirror stepping out of the car. “I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p>Ed made the connection quickly, taking in the distance between their cars and other situational clues that pointed to the conclusion that he had likely just been in a car accident. A minor one, but one nonetheless. He sighed, hoping that the damage wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix himself.</p><p>Ed unlocked his door, stepping out only to freeze to the press of hard metal against the small of his back.</p><p>“Now, just hand over your keys and wallet, and we’ll be on our way,” a deep voice said from behind his shoulder. His cologne had an overwhelming smell of cedarwood that made Ed want to sneeze.</p><p>Ah. A carjacking. How interesting. Carjackings weren’t terribly common in Gotham in comparison to other forms of crime, so the statistical likelihood in being involved in one was fascinating. “Of course,” Ed said, holding his hands up and in plain view as he offered his keys. “My wallet is in my pocket, but did you know that the term carjacking is a portmanteau of car and hijacking? It was coined by newscasters——”</p><p>“Jesus, do you not understand that we are holding you up? Just hand over your wallet, man,” the other driver, the one not holding the gun to Ed’s back, said. He was slim, dressed casually in a worn suit that was likely designed to be as non-intimidating as possible.</p><p>“Oh yes, of course,” Ed hurried to say, slowly reaching into his back pocket to hand over the wallet. He was interrupted, however, with the squeak of tires coming to a sudden stop and the smell of burning rubber that made him wrinkle his nose.</p><p>“Is this a fucking party or something?” Mr. Cedarwood Cologne said, and the gun was removed from Ed’s direction to wave it at the new car. “Walk along,” he said to the newcomer.</p><p>“I suggest <em>you two</em> walk along. Mr. Nygma is a personal friend of Mr. Cobblepot.”</p><p>Ed didn’t know it was possible for two grown men to back up so quickly from him.</p><p>“Oh shit, man, we didn’t know, we swear. We just saw your sweet ride, and, shit, here are your keys. We are so, so sorry, Mr. Nygma. Or did you want our car? It’s newer and rides smooth and you can have it, just don’t, uh, mention this to Penguin, right?” Mr. Cedarwood Cologne babbled, and it was the first good look Ed got of the man. He was about Ed’s height but twice as broad. He looked like he could have used Ed as a toothpick if he wanted to.</p><p>Ed watched, dumbfounded as his own keys were shoved back into his hand and another set was offered to him. He looked back at his car, the two (would-be?) carjackers, and the newcomer who was, based on the make and model of the car, his tail. “Um,” he said, unsure of what else to say. “I like my car?”</p><p>“So we’re cool then? Penguin doesn’t need to know about this, right?” Mr. Suit said.</p><p>“I won’t tell Oswald?” Ed said, looking between him and his tail, baffled.</p><p>“Thank you, thank you,” both men said, and Ed watched in silence as they drove away, tires squeaking. It was only then that Ed noticed his hand was still up with his keys and he cleared his throat, lowering his hand.</p><p>“Thank you?” he said to his tail. “For helping me.”</p><p>“Penguin told me to make sure you don’t get into any trouble, Mr. Nygma,” the man said. “So, I, uh, would appreciate it if you don’t try to lose me like that again. And if you could not let Penguin know that I lost you okay?”</p><p>“Okie dokie,” Ed said.</p><p>“You should head home. This area ain’t safe after dark,” he said. “I’ll be following you just to keep you safe, okay?”</p><p>“Okie dokie,” Ed repeated. He was about to climb back into his car before he remembered his manners. “I don’t know your name.”</p><p>The man gave him a look like he had grown a second head. “Friends call me Raff.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Raff,” Ed said. “I’ll just...head home then.”</p><p>Ed started his car, driving back to his apartment on auto-pilot, mind racing over what had just happened. Three words stuck out:</p><p>
  <em>Penguin told me.</em>
</p><p>Mr. Penguin had sent him. Mr. Penguin had <em>cared</em> enough to send someone to watch him.</p><p>Golly gee.</p><p>—-</p><p>Ed idled across the street, watching the umbrella sign flicker in the window in heavenly blue.</p><p>It was getting late. Perhaps the club would close soon. What time were clubs closing these days? He wasn’t very well acquainted with Gotham’s club scene... apart from the patrons he saw on the slab, that was.</p><p>Darn it, he was stalling. He had to go in. Mr. Penguin deserved to know his gesture was appreciated.</p><p>He’d spent an hour treading circles into his wooden floors after he’d gotten home. He couldn’t eat, let alone sleep. He felt a… need. A compulsion, perhaps. It didn’t matter, all he knew was he <em>had</em> to do this.</p><p>Gathering himself, he checked that the road was clear before scampering across.</p><p>He stopped at the doorman, swallowing before he spoke. “I am Edward Nygma. May I come in?”</p><p>The doorman cracked a smile, eyes trailing down him.</p><p>Ed felt exposed. “May, um, may I come in please?”</p><p>“You’re Ed Nygma, huh?”</p><p>“Yes.” He fidgeted with his cardigan.</p><p>“Heh, must be nice to have your tongue up the boss’s ass.”</p><p>All the warmth leached out of his skin by the words crashing into him like a burly man in a hurry. “I’m s-sorry?” No, no he was here for a reason, he had to do something, but he found himself suddenly tongue-tied and his head spinning.</p><p>The man laughed, leaning back with the force of it. “Go on, Mr. Nygma. The boss awaits ya.” His hand clapped down hard on Ed’s shoulder, and he flinched.</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” his voice recited, pulling away from the man’s grip to stumble through the door to the actual club. The music was loud and buzzing, filling his head. Perhaps thanking Mr. Penguin wasn’t such a good idea after all. He glanced back at the entrance. That oaf was probably still standing there. Who knew what he might say if Ed attempted to crawl out of the rabbit hole and back to reality.</p><p>“Edward? Is that you?”</p><p>Wincing, he turned back around. “Hello, Mr. Penguin.”</p><p>“Yes, hello.” Penguin looked him up and down. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m here to thank you. For granting me a tail. It is nice to be protected.” There, he’d said what he’d wanted to say, now he could leave.</p><p>Penguin burst into laughter. “My, my, that isn’t something many say after learning they’re being followed!”</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.” He hung his head, watching his shoes shift uncomfortably.</p><p>“Not at all, it’s a welcome surprise!” Penguin caught him by the elbow. “Come, sit with me. I’ll order you something sweet. I noticed you asked for extra sugar for your coffee.”</p><p>“I don’t know whether I should,” Ed worried. “It’s past ten now.”</p><p>“That early? And here I thought I’d been awake half the night.” He shook his head, tugging him closer. “Sit with me, Edward. I won’t ask again.”</p><p>His eyes were an interesting colour.</p><p>“Okay, very well.”</p><p>“Great, follow me.” He led him through to the entertainment space. “Booth or table?”</p><p>Hmm. “The booth looks more comfortable.”</p><p>“Booth, it is.” They took one of the many empty booths before Penguin left for the bar and came back with something bright pink with a tiny umbrella.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Does it matter?” He placed it on the table. “Drink it.”</p><p>Hesitantly, Ed lifted it to his lips. It was nice. All of this was… nice. He sighed, staring into the depths of fuchsia in his glass. All he wanted to do was disappear. His extremities were numb and his vision was buzzing. The world was television static. <em>Visual snow,</em> his therapist once said.</p><p>He was pulled out of his spiral by the sound of Mr. Penguin clearing his throat.</p><p>Edward conjured up the last of his willpower and turned towards the man next to him.</p><p>“Earlier today,” Mr. Penguin began, “I take it you were tricked as well?”</p><p>“It would seem so.” Edward forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He almost regretted getting the booth instead of a table. He felt trapped.</p><p>There was a long minute where none of them spoke. Ed felt Penguin’s eyes on him and wondered if he could <em>see</em> it. Sense it, maybe. He wasn’t normal. Kristen was still his friend and she probably meant no harm by her trick. He had no excuse to fall apart over it and he had even<em> less</em> reason to fall apart over a few words from a stranger. Why wasn’t he stronger?</p><p>“I was bullied a lot as a child,” Penguin finally spoke. “I once had someone write a letter to me only to discover later that it had been a cruel prank. I ended up waiting outside for several hours in the rain, because I was too stubborn to admit I’d been tricked.”</p><p>“Kids can be cruel,” he agreed, watching the way the lights in the club bounced off the polished table.</p><p>“So are adults.”</p><p>“That they are.” The ice had started melting in his mostly untouched glass. It clinked in a pattern of shifts and falls, dancing to the music. He sighed. “Once, my entire class thought it would be funny to pretend I was invisible. At some point I think they stopped pretending and simply forgot that I was there.”</p><p>Ed felt something of a release in admitting it. He had felt forgotten. But Penguin had remembered him. That counted for something.</p><p>“This is a good color on you,” Penguin suddenly said, gesturing to his sweater.</p><p>“Excuse me?” he furrowed his brow, unsure if he heard Mr. Penguin correctly.</p><p>“Green. It suits you.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you.” he gave a small smile, “It’s my favorite color.”</p><p>“I’ll remember that.” Penguin cocked his head to the side. “Is everything alright?” he finally asked.</p><p>Ed glanced down at his drink. “The man at the door said something rather horrible to me. That is why I’m down in the dumps. I apologize.”</p><p>The music’s heavy bass beat hung in the air until Ed turned his face to look at him again.</p><p>“Do <em>not</em> apologize.” Penguin’s face was a gravestone with cracks and etching and flowers growing from the dirt. “You won’t be meeting that man again.”</p><p>“Okay.” That was something at least. Mr. Penguin seemed very good at problem solving. Ed rather admired that.</p><p>He watched Penguin snap his fingers. A man broke off the herd hanging around the bar.</p><p>“Yes boss?”</p><p>Oswald leant in, whispering something Ed couldn’t quite hear.</p><p>“Right, boss.”</p><p>“There, dealt with,” he exclaimed as he turned back to Ed, the man plodding away.</p><p>“Thank you.” He nodded.</p><p>“Anytime.” Penguin smiled.</p><p>He appeared to be in a better mood than he was at the club’s opening. Ed assumed it was due to the number of bodies that were lingering around the bar. Word must have gotten around that the club had reopened, and so there was more business.</p><p>Mercifully, the band finished their set. Penguin slid out of the booth. “I need to prepare the stage for the next round. Please, enjoy yourself.”</p><p>Edward waited until Mr. Penguin was sufficiently distracted before taking off his glasses and palming at his eyes. He hadn’t realized how utterly exhausting the day had been until he’d allowed himself to sit down. In the span of a single evening, he had been tricked into getting coffee with people he assumed only tolerated his existence, had gotten shot at, thought he had a hit out on him from the mob, got into a car wreck that quickly turned into an attempted carjacking, and <em>then</em> had a complete stranger jab a finger into the gaping wound of one of his biggest insecurities.</p><p>He placed his hands palm down on either side of the drink Oswald had given him. Edward had a variety of nootropic drugs and stimulants at home meant to keep him focused and awake during long nights at the GCPD. However, he hadn’t quite perfected the cocktail to keep the melancholy away. The ice shifted in the glass again. He swallowed. Maybe this is how his dad felt? Maybe this was what drove him to drink until he passed out every night.</p><p>The woman on the stage tapped the microphone, “Yes, z’hat’s on.” She let out a nervous chuckle.</p><p>Edward eyed her curiously before turning his attention to where Mr. Penguin sat at a table right in front of the stage. The man was all smiles and pride.</p><p>The band was already playing the accompaniment to her song. Rather hastily at that. It may not have been obvious to Mr. Penguin or the other guests, but Edward had enough musical experience from his time as a pianist to notice the telltale signs of a musician who just wanted to get through a performance as quickly as possible.</p><p><em>“When you’re smiling…” </em>the woman stumbled over the first few notes. As she continued, Edward noticed the offending glances around the room. While he could appreciate her performance for what it was, it seemed that none of the rest of them were prepared for the wholesome moment they were witnessing.</p><p>Guessing by her age and the familiarity of her features, Ed deduced that this must be Gertrud Kapelput. Penguin’s famed mother. Edward hadn’t gotten the opportunity to meet her previously but he heard plenty of stories about the neurotic mother of The Penguin.</p><p>She was so blinded by her love that she didn’t see the obvious signs that her son was a career criminal. Whenever he was shot, stabbed, or dumped in the river with a shattered leg she would march into the precinct and demand justice. Captain Essen was usually the one who greeted her and assured her that everything was alright and to go home before causing a scene. The Captain had a way of handling her that the other officers didn’t have the patience for.</p><p>The audience was silent when the song ended. Several of the attendees glanced around and waited for someone to react. Oswald, who up until this point had been too distracted watching his mother perform, recognized the silence and rose up to give her the standing ovation he felt she deserved. Edward was quick to join in, and the others followed. Ms. Kapelput smiled and blew a kiss towards her son.</p><p>“Boo!” a voice suddenly called out from the bar. “Get off, you old bag.”</p><p>The noise dropped to silence, and Ed found himself standing, waiting.</p><p>Penguin turned slowly; first his head then his shoulders and torso. He walked slowly, purposefully. “What was that?”</p><p>“Boo—beautiful,” the man corrected himself and turned his attention back to his drink. However, the damage had already been done.</p><p>The Penguin buttoned his suit jacket and reached for a wine bottle. Ed’s heart thudded in his throat, his fingertips tingling. He didn’t want to look away</p><p>“Where is Osvald?” Gertrud made her way down the stage and towards the table her son had just been seated.</p><p>“Ms. Kapulput!” Ed jumped to his feet and placed a hand on her shoulder, spinning her in place so that her back was to the bar. The sound of smashing glass and a dull thud echoed through the club. He glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Penguin was looming over the rude customer. A shattered bottle of wine was in one hand, and blood was splattered across the table, floor, and several customers who had stuck their noses too far into his personal business. Ed couldn’t see the man from the angle he was at but, given the amount of blood spread gloriously across Mr. Penguin’s face, he could imagine what sort of state he was in.</p><p>Deep below, he felt a voice whisper, <em>damn, we missed the show.</em></p><p>Ms. Kapelput furrowed her brow and followed the line of his gaze over her shoulder. Edward was quick to pull her attention back to himself, “I’m Edward. Nygma. Your performance was lovely. I was wondering if you would have a drink with me?”</p><p>“Such a gentleman.” She smiled, extending her hand.</p><p>Edward led her to the booth and offered her the drink Penguin ordered for him. He let out a sigh of relief when she accepted it wholeheartedly.</p><p>“I saw you talking to my Osvald,” she said. Her lips curled into a sly grin.</p><p>Edward chuckled at how similar her smile was to her son’s, like they both knew more than they let on.</p><p>“Yes. We’re… friends. I think.” He could feel the involuntary blush creep up his arms and to his face. He resisted the urge to slap himself.</p><p>The broad shouldered bouncer that Ed recognized from the club’s opening made his way through the nervous crowd. His arms were crossed, and his expression brooked no argument as the terrified customers pulled money from their wallets, threw it on the table, and hastily made their way to the door. In spite of the sudden ending to the evening’s festivities, it looked like Mr. Penguin still made out like a bandit. The bouncer eyed Edward from across the room and nodded.</p><p>He nodded back.</p><p>“So good my boy has friends.” Ms. Kapelput wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “He alvays seems so lonely.”</p><p>Ed thought back to his interactions with Mr. Penguin. Aside from the few times he’d seen him speak with Detective Gordon, the man always seemed on edge. Likely awaiting the inevitable knife to his back. It made sense that his group of friends was so small. Ed’s blush intensified at the fact that he could be counted among them. For now, at least. He suspected it wouldn’t take much to annoy his newest friend and be discarded. Which <em>hopefully</em> wouldn’t be literal in this case.</p><p>“Apologies, mother. I had to deal with a<em> business</em> matter.” Penguin appeared, subtly signalling his bouncer who quickly started pulling away that rude man’s body.</p><p>“Oh! My poor boy. Did you get hurt?” Ms. Kapelput gestured to the blood on his face.</p><p>“What?” He looked at her and then at Ed who grimaced.</p><p>“You appear to have<em> wine</em> on your face,” Ed said, providing the excuse quickly.</p><p>“Yes! Wine! I’m clumsy and dropped a bottle.” Penguin wiped the blood off on his green pocket square. “I see you have met Edward.” He slid into the booth beside his mother.</p><p>“Such a handsome young man,” she said.</p><p>Penguin cleared his throat.“Have you enjoyed your evening thus far? I hope the drink was to your taste.”</p><p>“Oh, I actually…” Ed’s voice trailed as he pointed to Ms. Kapulput was currently chasing the last of the liquid at the bottom of her glass with her straw.</p><p>Penguin’s eyes narrowed as he spoke through gritted teeth, “I see…” He mouthed the words, <em>“What have you done?”</em></p><p>Edward just shrugged and mouthed, <em>“Sorry.”</em></p><p>“Another.” Ms. Kapelput demanded as she slid the glass in front of her son. He sighed, leaving his seat to head for the bar. Ed wasn’t entirely certain why he didn’t just make one of his staff bring them another drink but he supposed that this way he can have more control over the amount of alcohol that went into her cocktail. It also gave him ample opportunity to wash off the rest of the blood and to make sure that the so-called <em>business matter</em> was properly attended to.</p><p>“How did you meet my son?” Ms. Kapelput asked, another sly grin painted her face.</p><p>“I work at the police department, Ms. Kapulput.” he told her, “Your son was there speaking with a friend when we sort of… bumped into each other.”</p><p><em>You mean when you annoyed him and embarrassed yourself? </em>A voice at the back of his mind mocked him.</p><p>“You are policeman?” she asked. Her brow was furrowed so tightly in suspicion that her eyes were nothing but slivers.</p><p>“Goodness, no. I work in Forensics,” he corrected, “I’m a scientist.”</p><p>“A scientist!” Her eyes sparkled. “You must be very smart.”</p><p>Penguin reappeared at their booth, his mother’s drink in one hand and a crystal ashtray in the other.</p><p>“Oh! Thank you, darling.” She cooed and poked her son on the nose. He rolled his eyes in embarrassment and produced a package of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.</p><p>“Where did everyone go?” she asked, looking around the now empty club, “It’s so early!”</p><p>“Yes, well… I decided to close early so that we could spend some time together,” Penguin said.</p><p>Ed smiled at the two of them. His eyes flickered up to the empty stage.</p><p>“You can hear me and feel me but you can't see me or smell me. Everyone has a taste in me. I can be created, but after that only remembered. What am I?”</p><p>Ms. Kapulput blinked and then looked towards her son who was slowly narrowing his gaze as he thought. Suddenly, his eyes sparkled. He snapped his fingers, “Music!”</p><p>“Correct again, Mr. Penguin.” Edward smiled. That made three riddles that the smaller man had been able to answer thus far. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the piano on the stage.</p><p>With Oswald’s permission, he straightened his jacket and made his way up the step, feeling a chill run down his spine as he sat and ran his fingers over the keys.</p><p>“Oh, a waltz,” he heard behind him and, glancing back, found that Ms. Kapulput was trying to get up, one hand braced on her son’s shoulder. “A waltz!”</p><p>Ed looked over to Penguin again and saw him give a subtle nod. He was smiling, though there was something slightly worried about his face—but it soon faded, as Ms. Kapulput had regained her balance and was now leading him away from the table with definite confidence.</p><p>He returned his attention to the keys and began to play. <em>One, </em>two—three, <em>one,</em> two—three. To see them, he’d have to glance over the top of the piano, so he could only imagine what they looked like; Mr. Penguin, a thin figure all in black, supporting the mass of his mother’s flowing hair and layered evening gown. Was the mobster a good dancer? Unable to help himself, he looked, and hit a false note.</p><p>Of course, the leg.</p><p>Heat flushed to his cheeks and forehead. He dedicated himself only to playing, now, allowing the world to fall away until the only thing he could think about was the precision of his task, the satisfaction of the sounds coming together into a melody. He didn’t feel the tap on his shoulder until it happened the third time, making him jump.</p><p>“Sorry!” He exclaimed, automatic, tilting his head back to see Penguin standing by the piano—and what a strange change of perspective.</p><p>From there, he could see the shape of his jaw, the protrusion of his Adam’s apple just above his collar. He seemed… slightly older, now, maybe older than Ed himself, though he’d never considered the option before with how big his eyes were, how soft his voice was. The flat of his hand sat warmly between Ed’s shoulder blades.</p><p>“My mother,” he said after a moment, then cleared his throat, “my mother would like to dance with you.” His tone was commanding, but the flicker in his eyes suggested something else.</p><p>Ed took his trembling fingers off the keys. “She would?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Of—of course.” He scrambled to his feet, the space between the stool and the piano suddenly uncomfortably small, like its sole purpose was to trip him up. He shuffled out to the side, making space for Penguin to sit.</p><p>He didn’t. The hand that had been on Ed’s back moved down his arm and over his elbow, then dropped. He looked like he was considering saying something else, but then just smiled, gesturing him to go.</p><p>Ed didn’t linger. He crossed the stage and trotted down the stairs, discomfort creeping in the back of his mind. It was only polite, and Mr. Penguin had asked him personally, and the evening had been nice so far… and he wouldn’t mess up.</p><p>“Ms. K—”</p><p>“Gertrud,” she corrected before he could speak and held out her hands for him to take.</p><p>She had an odd charm about her; not unlike her son, really. She was slightly strange, but warm at the same time. She made him miss his own mother, though she’d been vastly different.</p><p>Her hands were covered by lace gloves but still warm to the touch. He didn’t have to do much of anything; she fell against him unprompted, slightly drunk, and hooked a hand onto his shoulder while the other rested on his own.</p><p>“I used to be a great dancer,” she murmured as they swayed.</p><p>“I think you’re still a great dancer, Ms. Kapulput,” he replied, tilting his chin up. Her scratchy hair was tickling his neck.</p><p>As they turned, his eyes met Mr. Penguin’s from across the room. It seemed he’d been watching them for a while, his face frozen in a strange, soft expression, like he hadn’t noticed he’d been caught; with all that space between them, it was easy to hold that gaze, and let it study him in return.</p><p>If this had, indeed, been a sort of test, he had passed it.</p><p>Ms. K stumbled, and he caught her just in time, shattering the moment. She laughed, gripping his suit tighter in her hands, but the music had stopped; Penguin had gotten up from the piano and was limping down the steps.</p><p>“Ms. Kapelput, you’ll have to excuse me,” Ed said, knowing his nervousness was showing, “It’s been a long day. I’m a bit tired.”</p><p>“Mother.” Penguin joined them, a slightly forced smile stretching his face. “Gabe will take you home.”</p><p>Ed smiled, standing patiently as Penguin gestured for his bouncer. Tonight was <em>brilliant.</em></p><p>—-</p><p>“Take her home, Gabriel,” Oswald sighed, massaging his temples.</p><p>“Sure thing, Boss,” Gabe said, “What should I do with the <em>trash?</em>”</p><p>“Where is it currently?” Oswald rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Out back.”</p><p>“I’ll call the cleanup crew and make sure that it is dealt with,” he bit out, less at Gabriel and more at the situation in general, “You focus on mother.”</p><p>“Right, Boss.” he nodded, “Alright, Mama Cobblepot. Let’s get you home.” he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and motioned her to the door. She kept leaning over her shoulders and blowing kisses at him and Ed until the door had finally closed. He let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding the entire night.</p><p>“Thank you.” he said, turning to Edward. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ve <em>dealt</em> with many enemies with her nearby before, but that was a little<em> too</em> close for comfort.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Edward said, “I… um… enjoyed our evening together.”</p><p>“As did I.” he smiled. “But, I am afraid I have a mess to clean up. So, I bid you adieu.”</p><p>“Can I help?” Ed blurted out.</p><p>“You want to… help?” Oswald raised an eyebrow. His new friend was rather eccentric.</p><p>“Yes. With your… erm…” he cleared his throat. “Mess.”</p><p>Oswald studied him for a moment, mentally carving the brunette’s face in his mind in an attempt to find a tell. There had to be an indicator that this man was a plant there to befriend him and then ruin him. He seemed so unreal.</p><p>After finding nothing, he turned towards the corridor leading to the alley behind the club with Edward quick on his heels.</p><p>When they arrived, Ed gasped. The left side of the man’s face was covered in clotted blood and deep gashes. The blow to the head itself wouldn’t have been enough to kill him. However, the deep lacerations on his throat had done the job splendidly. Judging by the amount of blood lost and the way it had splattered, it was clear that his carotid artery had been an unfortunate casualty of the Penguin’s wrath. He likely bled out in a matter of minutes.</p><p>
  <em>He died on the floor while we danced and sang.</em>
</p><p>Edward swallowed the lump in his throat. Without another word, he left the alley and marched back into the club with a quickness.</p><p>Oswald sighed as he watched his friend flee. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his assessment of Edward? He should have known he wouldn't have been alright with murder. But he had been distracted by Edward’s eagerness.</p><p>With a heavy sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work on moving the body. He dropped it in the middle of the floor and wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his suit jacket. Why did the freezer have to be located on the opposite end of the club?</p><p>He froze the moment he heard the doors open. He’d neglected to check if they were locked after Gabe had left with his mother. An<em> amateur</em> mistake. His eyes bounced around as he considered the easiest escape route.</p><p>“Perfect. Leave him there, Mr. Penguin.” Edward gave him his customary smile as he suddenly rolled out a plastic tarp next to the body.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Oswald squawked.</p><p>“I work in forensics. I think I can help you dispose of this body.” Edward snapped a latex glove around his wrist. He was wearing a goofy smile like he was all too eager to get to work helping his friend.</p><p>“That's really not necessary,” Oswald hissed, “I have a cleanup crew.”</p><p>“Yes. And they're not very good at their job,” Ed confessed.</p><p>“Come again?” he growled.</p><p>“I've been to those crime scenes. They're sloppy. The only reason you haven't been caught is because...” Edward paused, looking away, “...Because I covered it up for you.”</p><p>“You disposed of evidence that would incriminate me?” Oswald shook his head, “Why would you do that?”</p><p>“It would certainly be a shame if you were to get caught,” Ed said, “and because we’re friends.”</p><p>“We’ve only entered this friendship just recently.” Oswald glared. Something wasn’t adding up.</p><p>“Perhaps,” The man bit his lip, and Oswald allowed himself to be distracted by it, “Perhaps we weren’t friends yet but—but I was rather hoping we <em>would </em>be.”</p><p>He shook his head, feeling a smirk tritch his lips. “What, pray tell, would you have done had I declined your invitation of friendship.”</p><p>“Nothing.” Edward shrugged. Oswald found himself smiling. “You can still decline. If you really want to. I won’t say anything to anybody.”</p><p>Oswald hummed, still smiling. “Help me with this, and we’ll see.”</p><p>It was going to be a late, late night.</p><p>—-</p><p>Ed yawned, the needle blurring: out of focus, into focus.</p><p>“Hey, Ed.” He paused in the stitches he was making to Mr. Edingford’s liver, looking up.</p><p>“Hello, Kristen,” he tossed her a tight smile, “How can I help you?”</p><p>“I came to apologize.” She seemed rather strange with her arms hugging her stomach and her head hung low.</p><p>“Oh, did you?” He looked back down at his work. Oh, that was right: the coffee date, the phone number, the betrayal. “I suppose you thought it was funny.”</p><p>“No! No, I didn’t.” He looked at her again. “I just wanted to give you another chance to talk to him again. I thought maybe you’d connect more if you thought you were texting someone you knew.”</p><p>“I suppose that makes sense,” he allowed. “But it still wasn’t very fair, especially for us to meet up like that.”</p><p>“I know, and I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass either of you like that. I just got a little carried away in my excitement.”</p><p>Ed yawned again. “Your excitement?”</p><p>“Mr. Penguin…” Kristen shrugged, smiling a little. “He’s nice.”</p><p>He felt his face fall without permission. “You like Mr. Penguin?”</p><p>“What?” Kristen asked, staring at him. Suddenly she laughed. “No, Ed of course not! I mean, he’s nice enough, but not really my type.”</p><p>“Who is your type?” He sat up, anticipating the answer.</p><p>“I’m not really sure anymore.” Kristen sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “After the last two, you know. Maybe I need to try something new?”</p><p>Ed grinned. <em>What keeps storm-fearing man from succumbing to the toss of the sea, keeps a thirsty man walking along the desert sand, and an accused man from cutting all ties?</em></p><p>
  <em>Hope.</em>
</p><p>“Thank you, Kristen. Your apology is accepted.”</p><p>“Thank you…?” She frowned, shifting her skirt.</p><p>“No problem,” he assured her. “You may go.” He turned back to the liver, blinking his needle into focus once more.</p><p>“Oh, no, wait, before I go,” Ed turned to face her again, “How did it go?”</p><p>“How did what go?”</p><p>“You talking with Mr. Cobblepot, silly,” she laughed.</p><p>“Oh, that.” Ed frowned, debating how much could be said. “Well, I’m afraid coffee was rather a disaster.” Kristen’s face fell, and he instantly felt the need to repair her smile. “But my time at the club was very enjoyable!”</p><p>“You went to his club?” she cried. “Well done!”</p><p>Why was she praising him? “Thank you,” he said politely.</p><p>“Oh, Ed, it can’t have been so bad if he invited you to his <em>club</em>,” she squealed.</p><p>“Well, I suppose I technically saved his life,” Ed allowed, “but I also stood on his bad leg so really it was half and half.”</p><p>“You saved his life?” she squawked.</p><p>“Well, yes, you see, these men with guns—”</p><p>“Of course, he’s going to want to talk to you now!”</p><p>“Miss Kringle, I hate to be a bother, but could you lower your voice, please?” he asked. Shouting was always so… troublesome.</p><p>“Oh, yes, sorry,” She blushed sweetly.</p><p>“It’s fine.” Her hair seemed all the more vibrant paired with those flaming cheeks. Hmm, how would Mr. Penguin look with a bit of a blush?</p><p>“So how did it go at the club?”</p><p>Ed yawned again, glancing at the liver. “It was fine.”</p><p>“Fine? Really?”</p><p>“Miss Kringle, please.” He shook his head. “I have work to do. You must bribe me with an actual coffee date before I tell you anything.” He could certainly use the caffeine.</p><p>“It’s Kristen,” she reminded him, “and sure, I’ll meet you at Harry’s down the street on our lunch break.”</p><p>“You mean… you <em>do</em> want a lunch date?” Ed frowned, hardly believing it.</p><p>“Of course, silly. I want you to tell me <em>everything</em>,” She backed away, a strangely dark smile on her face. “See you then, okay!”</p><p>“Oh…” Kristen shut the door, “...Kay.”</p><p>An actual lunch date with Kristen! But it was so <em>casual</em>. How was he supposed to impress her on a date like that?</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>Ed frowned at the strange noise.</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>Curious, his hand went to his pocket, pulling out his phone.</p><p>
  <em>You have 2 unread messages!</em>
</p><p>Strange. He flipped it open, opening up his texts.</p><p>
  <em>KK: Hello, Edward. This Oswald</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: What can’t you have for breakfast or dinner?</em>
</p><p>Ed felt a gasp escape him, his fingertips tingling.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Who did you pay to tell you that one?</em>
</p><p>He grinned, placing the phone to one side. <em>Focus, Ed</em>. There was a liver to sew up. He picked up the needle.</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>Darn. He smiled.</p><p>
  <em>KK: Are you interested in lunch or not?</em>
</p><p>He licked his lips.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Where?</em>
</p><p>He watched the clock in the corner tick over the minute line.</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: Watergreens. 12:30</em>
</p><p>
  <em>KK: And make sure you change my contact to my name before you get there, or else</em>
</p><p>“Or else.” He was so funny.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: Will do!</em>
</p><p><em>Ed: See you then</em>!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chierei: I hope everyone has been enjoying! I got to write part of this chapter so can you guess which parts? ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. It’s Just Us Boys Here, After All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ed approached the building quickly, feeling rather tense with all the excitement flooding his brain. Really, it wasn’t good for his health to feel this nervous all the time. At least he wasn’t so tired anymore.</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>Ed fumbled in his pocket for his phone.</p><p>
  <em>Os: Are you here yet? </em>
</p><p>He exhaled, trying to calm his nerves.</p><p>
  <em>Ed: I’m outside</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ed: This place seems expensive</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Os: What did you expect?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Os: Come in already</em>
</p><p>He took one last deep breath and opened the door.</p><p>“You Ed Nygma?” a gruff man asked immediately, blocking his way to the restaurant.</p><p>“Yes,” he confirmed, taking a step away from the man. He recognised him from last night.  “Who are you?”</p><p>“I’m Gabe. Follow me to the table.” </p><p>Ed did what he said, winding through the empty tables and chairs to a table by the window.</p><p>“Ah, Ed, good to see you. I hate to be kept waiting, be quicker next time,” Penguin said upon his arrival. “Would you like Gabe to take your coat?”</p><p>“I don’t have a coat.” He didn’t. </p><p>“I know you don’t have one, but I passed one in the shop window on the way here that would suit you perfectly. Perhaps we can take a look at it after lunch.”</p><p>“My break only lasts thirty minutes and we haven’t even ordered,” Ed pointed out.</p><p>“I have ordered for you,” Penguin told him. “Now sit.”</p><p>“Right.” Mr Penguin was very demanding. He sat, looking around. “Where is everyone? Shouldn’t this place be packed at lunch time?”</p><p>“Mmm, yes,” Penguin hummed, smiling, “But I thought we’d enjoy our meal better if we weren’t disturbed.”</p><p>“Oh.” Ed swallowed, smiling to match him. “Well that’s why I enjoy eating at home.”</p><p>“But isn’t your apartment small? Surely it’d be better in a larger place.”</p><p>Ed coughed, adjusting his glasses. “How do you know the size of my apartment?”</p><p>“That being said, small can be so homely,” Penguin divulged, leaning closer over the table. “I know my mother feels so comfortable in her little apartment. I’m sure you do too.”</p><p>“Indeed, I do.” He blinked. “I know you’ve had someone following me, but have you placed a watch on my apartment too?”</p><p>“Of course! I do that to all my friends! It’s important that you are safe.”</p><p>Ed felt heat rush to his cheeks, staring down at his hands in his lap to fiddle with his napkin. “No one’s ever cared whether I live or die before.”</p><p>Penguin frowned. “I don’t care if you die necessarily. I just think it’d be unfortunate and something best to avoid.”</p><p>Ed thought that rather sounded like he cared, but it was probably best not to say. “I see.”</p><p>Penguin’s glare turned on the man beside them. “Gabe, check if the bruschetta is ready.”</p><p>“Yes, boss.”</p><p>His fingers drummed against the table. “So, have you ever killed anyone before?”</p><p>Ed gulped. “Umm, no?”</p><p>“Shame.” He sighed. “This morning, I had this man, Yakov, on the rack, and I used my scalpel to peel off the skin of his armpits.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Ed breathed. “Did you see his sweat glands? Did he scream? Was there a lot of blood? Did his blood clot quickly? How big was this man? What was his cholesterol?”</p><p>Penguin’s eyes sparkled. “He screamed and cried for his mother.” </p><p>Ed felt a laugh bubble up and let it loose. </p><p>“And yes, there was blood everywhere. Especially after I slit his throat.”</p><p>His toes curled in his shoes, something strange sparking up his spine and settling in his shoulders. “You just admitted another murder to me.” </p><p>Penguin’s brow raised. “Will you tell anybody?”</p><p>Ed shook his head. “Never.”</p><p>They shared a smile. “Very well.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Ed hung his new coat over his chair, stepping back to look at it. It was a forest green cashmere with silk lining, more expensive than half a year’s rent on his apartment. </p><p>He liked it.</p><p>
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p>Ed pulled out his phone. He was getting more used to the action now.</p><p>
  <em>Os: Be at Huntington’s Tailor shop at 4pm on Saturday</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Os: And bring the coat</em>
</p><p>Oswald (And it was <em>Oswald</em> now, by the man’s invitation) had been rather insistent about going to the tailor’s. Ed couldn’t place the source of his interest. Perhaps it had something to do with his mother. He talked about Ms. K a lot.</p><p>A knock sounded at the door, and his attention turned back to the room.</p><p>“Come in.” Miss Kringle opened the door and stepped through. “Oh, Kristen, I—” Suddenly it occurred to him that he had forgotten something very, very important. “Oh dear! I’m so sorry, Kristen! I completely forgot that we were meeting for coffee! Oh, I got so caught up and—”</p><p>“I understand Ed.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “Even if it sucked to be stood up, I know you sometimes get caught up in your work. Just… try to remember next time.”</p><p>“That’s what’s so awful!” Ed cried. “I wasn’t working; I was having lunch with Oswald Cobblepot!”</p><p>“You <em><strong>were?!</strong></em>” He jumped at the sudden change of pitch in her voice. “Oh my god, Ed, I’m so happy for you!”</p><p>“I thought you were cross with me.” Why was she so excited? There was no need to be excited. “You were cross a few seconds ago.”</p><p>“That was when I thought you ditched me to hang out with a stupid corpse, but now I know you ditched me for a hot guy, so that kinda changes things,” Kristen told him, “But never ever ditch me again. If you gotta cancel, text first for god’s sake, it’s not that hard.”</p><p>“You think Oswald is hot?” He knitted his fingers in his shirt.</p><p>Kristen rolled her eyes. “Oh my <em>god</em>, Ed.”</p><p>It made so much sense. What had Kristen said earlier that day?<em> “Maybe I need to try something new?”</em> And Oswald Cobblepot was certainly something new.</p><p>“Ed, seriously, why are you convinced I want to take your man?”</p><p>“You said he was hot! He is not; he is… handsome. At best.” That was rather a lie, but he couldn’t let Kristen think he agreed. Then she’d be convinced to go after <em>Penguin </em>instead of him. That wouldn’t do at all. “In fact, I don’t even think he’s interested in dating. He seems far more interested in his work than women.”</p><p>Kristen snorted. “Well, that I believe.”</p><p>“Exactly. So there.” He crossed his arms. “Don’t even think of him like that.”</p><p>“I <em>don’t</em> think of him like that,” Kristen gasped, shaking her head at him, “I’m only interested in him for <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Oh.” He frowned. “Well, I do believe our friendship is developing.”</p><p>“That’s really good to hear, Ed.” Her hand dropped on his shoulder. It was quite warm. “Now, did you enjoy your lunch?”</p><p>“I did.” He nodded. “And Mr. Penguin bought me this coat,” Ed gestured to the garment, “He said green matches my eyes. Do you like it?”</p><p>“Oh my god, he bought you a <em>coat?</em>” She laughed. “You are so damn lucky.” She plucked the coat off the chair. “It looks expensive. How much did it cost?”</p><p>“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He shook his head. “I had no idea people would pay that much for a coat. Or that they’d charge so much either.”</p><p>“Wow, Ed,” She tutted, looking the coat over. “It’s a gorgeous coat. He must really like you.”</p><p>“Maybe.” He wasn’t so convinced.</p><p>“Really?” She scoffed. “You’ve got to have more confidence in yourself.”</p><p>“Confidence is merely a piece of string stretched across a walkway for one to trip on,” Ed muttered.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>He pointed at the clock. “It means I still have work to do before my shift is over. I can speak with you after.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, I’m going,” she agreed, heading for the door. “Oh, and Ed.” She pointed a fierce finger at him. “No more ditching.”</p><p>“Of course,” he assured her. “See you later.”</p><p>“Yep, see you.” She left the room.</p><p>Hmm. Kristen certainly was a lot more normal than Oswald. But she had a nice smile. And she was kind. Not that Oswald’s smile wasn’t handsome. And he was certainly generous.</p><p>Ach, what was he thinking about? </p><p>Snatching up his tweezers, he set himself back to his task. Those tissue samples wouldn’t analyze themselves.</p><p>—-</p><p>Kristen practically skipped back to the Records Annex. She had been rather annoyed with Ed for ditching their lunch plans; she had spent the better part of her lunch break searching through the precinct for the man before giving up. But all was forgiven. </p><p>“Oh, Lee!” she said, surprised, when she opened the door to the Records Annex to find the woman browsing through one of the top drawers. “Did you need a file for a case?” she asked, a smile still on her face. </p><p>“Yes, actually,” Lee said, holding out a scrap of paper for Kristen to take with the details. “I thought I’d try to find it myself while I waited for you.”</p><p>“I hope you weren’t waiting long. I was just talking to Ed,” Kristen said as she searched for the file in question. She opened up the bottom drawer to one of the cabinets in the corner, skimming over the sparse labels until she found it. She plucked it out, kicking the drawer closed with her heel before turning to offer it to Lee. </p><p>“Ohh, Edward Nygma,” Lee said, taking the file. “Did something good happen? He seemed pretty distracted when I saw him in the morgue this morning.”</p><p>“Oh, yes!” Kristen said, unable to contain her excitement. She was so happy that Lee was as invested in getting those two together as she was. “They had lunch together today! Apparently, Penguin asked Ed out and then even bought him a new coat because, and I quote, because the ‘green brings out his eyes’.”</p><p>Lee’s mouth fell open in surprise before she smiled, wide. “That’s so exciting. Do they have plans for another date?”</p><p>Kristen shook her head. “I don’t know. Ed didn’t mention anything, but he seems pretty nervous to push.”</p><p>“See, maybe we need to give him a little edge nudge,” Lee said, giving Kristen a scheming look. </p><p>“It’s like you read my mind, Dr. Thompkins,” she said. “I knew we’d be good friends. Now, tell me you have some ideas.”</p><p>“What if—”</p><p>She was cut off as the door opened, Detective Gordon peeking his head in. </p><p>“Lee, there you are…” He trailed off as he noticed the two woman staring at him. “Oh no, I know that look and you are not roping me into whatever scheme you have to get those two crazies together.” He held his hands up, backing up and shaking his head. </p><p>Lee grabbed him by the arm, hauling him bodily into the room. “Come on, Jim. You are the only one who can get Oswald anywhere. We will take care of getting Ed where he needs to be, and you are in charge of Oswald.”</p><p>“Since when?” Jim asked, looking resigned. He ran a hand over his face. </p><p>“Since now,” Lee proclaimed. “Okay, since they just had their first date—”</p><p>“They what?” Jim squawked.</p><p>“—we need to focus on their second date.”</p><p>—</p><p>Saturday came faster than Ed had expected. Logically, he knew that it was the same amount of time as it always took though given Einstein’s theory of special relativity where he hypothesized that time slows down or speeds up depending depending on relative velocity—</p><p>No. </p><p>Ed shook himself out of his thoughts. Focus. He was meeting with Mr. Penguin—Oswald—in just over an hour. Which meant, to be his customary fifteen minutes early, he would need to leave his apartment in exactly twenty-seven minutes. So, what, exactly was he supposed to wear?</p><p>He spent the next twenty-five minutes debating and discarding options. By the time he noticed he was going to be almost late for his self-imposed deadline, he decided that a sweater would have to do. He pulled on one that was slightly too small—it fit him well-enough but tended to make him feeling oddly exposed with how tightly it clung, but given that they were meeting at a tailor’s, he presumed that having tighter fitting clothing was better for more accurate measurements. </p><p>Ed checked his watch. Twenty-three minutes, building in two extra minutes if it was slightly heavier traffic, to the tailor’s. </p><p>Perfect. </p><p>—-</p><p>Oswald always arrived exactly on time. It was one of the things he’d learned from Ms. Mooney—being too early made you look eager while being late was disrespectful. After so many years as her umbrella boy, he likely set his watch by his own internal clock. </p><p>Which was why he was vexed that he was now ten minutes late to his meeting with Ed. Not as vexed as those who had made him late given that their bodies were now being dumped in the river, but it still put him in a sour mood. He checked himself over quickly with his compact, making sure he had wiped away all of the blood from his face. He scowled as he noticed a few spots on his otherwise pristine shirt collar, but there was no time to change. And from what he had learned of Ed, the other man wouldn’t mind. </p><p>He wasn’t sure what had exactly possessed him to invite the other man out to lunch, but he had still had his number from the whole coffee debacle. And the man had...protected him at the coffee shop, and Oswald didn’t forget his friends. He had so few of them, and Ed was, still tentatively, a friend.</p><p>The coat purchase had been a spur of the moment decision. He didn’t know if he could stand to look at Ed wasting away in cheap off-the-rack clothing when he could do something about it. He honestly would have sent a dozen tailored suits to Jim if he thought for a second that the man would accept them. </p><p>Tailoring the coat was just an excuse to get the man in to try on the other suits that Oswald had already commissioned. He had to guess on the sizes but would have preferred to have the man himself in for the final fitting. Afterall, a coat did not a wardrobe make. </p><p>The car finally pulled to a slow stop, and Oswald shut his compact with a quiet snap, slipping it back in his pocket. His apology to Ed was already halfway out of his mouth, before his brain caught up with what he was seeing and ground to a halt. </p><p>Because while the sweater itself was hideous, all polyester and light pilling at the hems, it was also, decidingly, a size too small for the other man. It clung to Ed like a second skin, highlighting the man’s tapered waist and lean arm muscles that were normally hidden beneath his jackets and layers. It was...distracting. </p><p>“Oh, Mr. Penguin,” Ed said, hurriedly shaking his hand from where he had been loitering near the entrance. “It’s no worries, I know you must be a busy man.”</p><p>“Still, I always make time for friends,” Oswald managed to say, trying not to look too hard at the man. “And please, call me Oswald.”</p><p>He ushered the man inside. Mr. Yamamoto was one of the best tailors in Gotham and had been dressing the Falcone family for generations. Oswald’s first bespoke suit was from the man, a gift from Ms. Mooney on his promotion to her umbrella boy. </p><p>And the man was efficient, nipping and pinning areas of fabric like a whirlwind the moment he had Ed on his pedestal. The poor man looked a little overwhelmed, to Oswald’s great amusement, and he was enjoying the way the man would fluster. He, as expected, had attempted to turn down the several suits Oswald had commissioned—one of which was made of a deep iridescent emerald fabric that would have been gaudy on anyone else, but that Oswald felt the man could pull off—but he was ultimately triumphant. </p><p>“Anything for a friend,” he said as he lounged with a tumbler of scotch in the nearby armchair,watching. </p><p>Everything was fine, until Mr. Yamamoto actually brought <em>out</em> the suits, lined up in neat rows along with the dozen button-ups that Oswald had ordered. That Ed had to try on. </p><p>Meaning get undressed. </p><p>Meaning Oswald had to watch as the man pulled that frankly obscene sweater over his head to show off the soft curve of his stomach and the light traces of muscles along his arms. Oswald averted his eyes, trying to tamp down his blush. It was just a shirtless man, for heaven’s sake. Nothing to get all… riled up about. </p><p>He cleared his throat and took a long drink of scotch. “There <em>is</em> a changing room, Ed.” </p><p>“Oh!” Ed scrambled, pulling his sweater over his chest as though to protect his modesty. “I just thought—I mean—he told me to change and I—” The blush extended all the way down to his collarbone, Oswald noted, and he stopped that train of thought in its tracks. </p><p>“It’s no worries, friend,” he said, his lips pressed tightly into a smile. “It’s just us boys here, after all.”</p><p>Ed nodded, unsure, but seemed to take him at his word. He carefully folded the sweater before starting to work open his belt. The sound of the clanking metal seemed deafening in the otherwise small shop, and Oswald tried to focus on a gray stain on the carpet that was shaped almost like a pear instead of the new swathes of revealed skin.</p><p>Ed filled up the space with his words. “Did you know that tailoring dates back to the Middle Ages? The original tailors were used to create the linens worn under armor. It wasn’t until the Renaissance that style became a factor in the profession.” </p><p>Oswald tried to focus on the words, but it was difficult when there was so much skin showing. Ed looked like he was made up of mostly leg; long with lean muscles, and graying underwear that left little to the imagination. </p><p>He quickly averted his eyes again, feeling the heat creep up his face. Would it be too forward to send Ed undergarments? Perhaps something silk or jersey cotton, that could replace those… monstrosities. </p><p>Monstrosities that were highlighting Ed’s assets but monstrosities nonetheless. </p><p>Oswald finally found it safe to look up when Ed was pulled into the first suit, a dark gray with green pinstripes paired with white shirt. “Looking quite dashing, my friend,” he complimented. “How do you like it?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s…” Ed said, before trailing off. “It’s wonderful.”</p><p>Oswald felt his spirit dip, threatening to sink into his stomach. He knew what was coming next—this was the time where he’d be pushed away, called a freak, for trying to be kind. He steeled his heart and gave Ed a challenging look. “But what?”</p><p>“It’s too much,” Ed said, the words coming out in a blur. “The jacket, these suits, I’m not—I’m just a nobody who works in forensics. I’m not worth all of… this.” He spread his arms to indicate everything around him. </p><p>Oswald didn’t know the feeling that bubbled in his chest, a cross between happiness and indignation. He stood, forcing himself up with the help of his cane, and hobbled the few steps forward so he could look Ed in the eye. “You are worth it to me, my friend.”</p><p>—-</p><p>“So, how was your weekend, Ed?” Kristen asked, bumping her hip playfully against his as she trotted up from behind to catch up to him. His silhouette was distinctive, paired with a suit that had subtle green pinstripes running down it. </p><p>He jumped at the contact, making her giggle. “Good morning, Miss Kr—Kristen.” He smiled brightly, hugging a case file to his chest. “My weekend was excellent. How was yours?”</p><p>“Excellent, hmm?” She linked arms with him so they could walk side by side. “What made your weekend so excellent? It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Mr. Penguin, would it?”</p><p>“In fact,” he began, fiddling with his sleeve and not making eye contact. “Mr. Pen—Oswald,” he corrected quickly and Kristen suppressed a cheer, “took me to the tailors. And, well, he insisted, and it would have been rude to turn them down, well, and they are very nice—”</p><p>“Ed,” Kristen interrupted gently with an indulgent smile. The rambling was growing on her, becoming more cute than creepy now that she knew that the man was harmless. </p><p>“Oswald insisted on buying me a few suits,” Ed said, almost too quickly for her to make out. “He said that it would be a shame to not have anything to match my coat.” He worried at his bottom lip. </p><p>“Isn’t that a good thing? The guy you like buying you gifts?” she asked. </p><p>“What if, I mean,” Ed said with a worried and downcast look. “I work for the GCPD. And Oswald is, well, Oswald. What if he’s only being nice to me because I work in forensics?”</p><p>Kristen gave his arm a squeeze, leaning against his shoulder in a facsimile of a hug. “Oh sweetie, I don’t think Mr. Cobblepot needs to be bribing you to get access to the GCPD.” It was a sad but true fact that the GCPD did their best, but at least half of their cops were in the mob’s pocket.</p><p>“Then why is he being so kind to me?” Ed asked, soft and confused. </p><p>“Maybe he liked you too,” she suggested. </p><p>“I don’t…” He trailed off and then, very quietly added, “People don’t like me.”</p><p>Kristen ground them to a halt so she could give Ed into a quick hug. “I like you.” She smiled. </p><p>“Oh.” He blushed, light spots of pink high on his cheeks. “I… I like you too, Kristen.”</p><p>“So that’s settled then,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Proof that people do like you, Ed.”</p><p>Ed nodded, seemingly dumbfounded and still blushing.</p><p>“Now,” she said, changing the subject with a little bounce in her step. “Tell me all about your weekend. Where did you go? What did he say? I want to know <em>everything</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Real Girls’ Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I take full blame for this chapter, lmao -zebra</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, how goes the matchmaking?” Lee asked, handing Kristen a new cup of coffee as she perched herself on the edge of her desk. She had a few minutes to spare; Ed was using the M.E. room to test a theory of his, and she needed to stretch her legs from filling out paperwork. </p><p>Kristen sipped at the drink, humming in delight at the hazelnut latte. “Better than we had planned, actually. Ed conveniently forgot to tell me that they had another date on Saturday!”</p><p>“Oh?” Lee was a little surprised but pleased. “So soon?” She hadn’t known Ed long, but she felt like they were already close. The man was a genius, no doubt, and she was a little surprised that he hadn’t decided to pursue medical school himself given his wide range and knowledge regarding anatomy. Hell, he should’ve been M.E. himself if life wasn’t such a bitch.</p><p>Kristen leaned back in her chair, looking up at her. “Apparently, Mr. Cobblepot took Ed to a tailor then straight up bought him some new suits.”</p><p>Lee’s eyebrows shot up. “And I’m assuming these aren’t some off-the-rack suits if they were at a tailor?”</p><p>Kristen shook her head. “I looked up the tailor; full bespoke suits only.” She sighed. “If only I could meet a man so nice.”</p><p>Lee gave her a pat on the shoulder, trying not to think about how much she wished the same. “Still no luck in the dating department for you?”</p><p>Kristen shook her head. “No, and to be honest, I don’t know if I’m ready to be. I’ve… I’ve been in relationships since I was sixteen. I dated my high school sweetheart until graduation, then met my first college boyfriend during orientation. I don’t know if I’ve been single longer than a month or two since.” She rested her chin on her elbow, toying with the end of her ponytail. “And with how things ended with Tom and getting closer to Ed, I don’t know.” Her eyes seemed so… lost. “Might be good for me to be single for awhile.”</p><p>Lee’s heart thumped. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she said as she squeezed Kristen’s shoulder, wishing it was enough, “But I have heard that your ex-boyfriend was a real character.”</p><p>“A real ass, more like it,” Kristen said with a snort. “I’m glad he’s gone. He was an arrogant jackass. God, I don’t know what I ever saw in him.” She cradled her head in her arms. “I’d probably still be with him too if Ed hadn’t—” She broke off, as though she just realized she had been speaking aloud. </p><p>“Hey,” Lee said, setting down her coffee on the table so she could kneel next to Kristen’s chair. “I know we haven’t been friends for long, but I’m here for you okay?”</p><p>Kristen looked at her with watery eyes and a small smile. “Thank you, Lee. I just...I realized my taste in men tended to be handsome abusive jackasses. God, they are always charming and handsome at first. But then—” She rubbed her right forearm almost unconsciously. </p><p>Lee grabbed her hands, cupping them in her own. “You have us now,” she promised. “You have me and Jim and Ed. None of us will let anyone hurt you again.”</p><p>Kristen let out a sob, a few tears escaping her eyes. She pulled away from her, taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes carefully with a handkerchief. “Thank you,” she said again. “Really, I’ve never had real friends like this before.”</p><p>Lee smiled warmly, taking her hand again. “How do you feel about coming around for dinner tonight? I can’t guarantee Jim will stay the whole time, but we could drink some wine, have a real girls’ night.”</p><p>Kristen laughed a little at the idea of a normal girls’ night out. “Should I bring my nail polish?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Bring your whole makeup bag. We’ll have a bit of fun.”</p><p>“Cool.” Kristen sniffed, wiping her eyes, mascara be damned. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>—-</p><p>“Sorry, Lee,” Jim’s phone snapped shut, “I won’t be able to stay for dinner.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Kristen and I will be alright,” Lee assured him, picking up one of the three sets of knives and forks. “Go catch your bad guys.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s fine.” She slipped around the kitchen countertop to reach the cabinet, pulling out two wineglasses. She turned, meeting Jim’s weary gaze. “What?”</p><p>“You usually protest more than this, which means you’re either really, really mad, or just don’t want me around.” He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. He always <em>did </em>that. Lee’s current theory was that it made him feel authoritarian.</p><p>“You’re being silly, Jim.” She sighed, walking over to place her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not mad; I know your work is important, and I know Kristen and I will still have a fun time without you.”</p><p>“Yeah, well,” He quirked his lips, “Don’t have too much fun, okay?”</p><p>Lee gestured to the bottles lined up on the counter. “I won’t make any promises.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Kristen exhaled slowly, smoothing down her skirt. She wasn’t nervous, only cautious; it’d been a while since she’d really done something like this. That was worth taking a moment to prepare herself.</p><p>Confident she could do this, she knocked on the door. It opened quicker than expected, Lee’s smiling face appearing almost instantly.</p><p>“Hello, Kristen! Please come in.” She backed away, opening the door wide.</p><p>“Thank you, Leslie,” Kristen felt warmth in her cheeks, her excitement building as she realized her friend was equally happy to see her. “What a lovely apartment you have.”</p><p>“Oh, thank you, sweets,” She giggled, “Rent’s a bitch, but it’s worth it.”</p><p>“Oh, tell me about it,” Kristen sighed, shifting her handbag strap on her shoulder. “It’s like the only way to afford anything in this city is to be born rich or become a criminal.”</p><p>“Sad but true,” Lee agreed, “What do you have there?”</p><p>“Oh, my makeup bag,” Kristen fished the bulky thing out of her purse, “Figured we could do makeovers.”</p><p>Lee laughed, throwing her head back a little. She had such a nice laugh. “Take me back to my teen years, why don’t you? This should be fun.”</p><p>They left the bag on the couch, walking over to the kitchen where she leaned against the kitchen counter as Lee checked the oven.</p><p>“So, what are we eating?” She asked, chewing her lip before remembering she was supposed to be a confident person nowadays and shouldn’t do that.</p><p>“Just some chicken rice thing I put together,” Lee replied. “Should be finished soon.”</p><p>“Should I have brought something?” She asked, jiggling her leg. “I didn’t think about it, sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, sweets. You’re relieving me by giving me some intellectual conversation that isn’t Jim moaning about work for once,” Lee sighed, suddenly brushing her hand down her arm.</p><p>“I guess he doesn’t have much else to talk about.” Such a small movement to brush one’s hand down another’s arm. But so purposeful too.</p><p>“Apparently, not.” So she definitely chose to touch her. Chose to stroke her arm. It was a decision she made. “It used to be exciting, but I suppose that since I started working for the GCPD, I’ve sort of… got tired of it.”</p><p>“Fair enough.” She watched Lee grab one of the wine bottles off the counter.</p><p>“It’s a red,” She said, pulling the cork out. Kristen flinched at the sound. “Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” She replied automatically.</p><p>“Do you want some?” She nodded. “Here.” Lee poured some into a glass. “Tell me what you think.”</p><p>Kristen took a sip. “Mmm, yes, I love the sweet stuff.”</p><p>“Yes, exactly!” Lee’s hand suddenly clutched her arm. “Fancy you having the same taste as me.”</p><p>Kristen shrugged, at a loss for words. Lee’s eyes were so—</p><p>
  <em>Ding!</em>
</p><p>“Oh, that’s the rice.” Lee broke the contact, turning to the oven.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do?” Kristen offered.</p><p>“You can grab the salad from the fridge if you like.”</p><p>Kristen popped open the fridge, grabbing the prominent wooden bowl that greeted her. “Mmm, feta cheese is my favourite.”</p><p>“Couldn’t agree more.”</p><p>She went ahead and placed it on the table. “This table cloth is nice.”</p><p>“Sweet violets. It was my aunt’s.”</p><p>“Lovely. Should I sit?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll just be a moment.” Kristen took a seat, craning her neck to watch Leslie in the kitchen.</p><p>“Oh shit!”</p><p>Kristen’s eyes widened, her mouth smiling without permission to hear the polite medical examiner suddenly swear. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>“The sauce burned!”</p><p>“Oh, it’s alright!” She called. “I’m sure it’ll be just as nice without it.”</p><p>“Ugh, but it’s so much better with it.” Metal clanged around and Kristen had to resist the urge to stand and help. “Damn.” Lee appeared, leaning against the counter. “Bit of a disaster.”</p><p>“Oh, I <em>know,</em>” Kristen gasped. “So terrible, I’ll have to pack up all my stuff and leave at once.”</p><p>“Alright, I see your point,” Lee laughed. “Just… mistakes, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” She nodded, “I know.”</p><p>“Well, since the sauce is ruined, I’ll just plate the chicken up, alright?”</p><p>“You’re the captain of this ship, what you say goes.”</p><p>“Damn right, I’m the captain.” Lee grinned and turned away.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, dinner was delightful, missing sauce or not.</p><p>“Thank you for going to so much trouble,” Kristen said, placing her knife and fork on the side of her plate. “It’s been a while since someone cooked for me.”</p><p>“Been a while for me as well,” Lee admitted. “Jim’s been busy at work, and when I’m busy too we just end up ordering in.”</p><p>“Always seems to be the way.” She caught the stem of her glass, swallowing the last swig of red.</p><p>“So… makeover time?”</p><p>“Makeover time,” She agreed before glancing at her glass. “Refill time too, I think.”</p><p>“I’ll open another bottle. Go get comfortable.”</p><p>Kristen toed her way over to the couch. She was feeling warm, happy. Really, really happy. She was giggling.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Lee’s voice called from the kitchen.</p><p>“Your TV is tiny!” Kristen told her. </p><p>“It’s Jim’s. I put my proper one in the bedroom.”</p><p>“Woah, two TVs. You’re living the dream.” Haha, so stupid.</p><p>“Seemed a shame to get rid of it.” Fair enough, she supposed. “Actually, we might as well just do this in there. My makeup’s in there and I have a mirror we can use.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” Kristen agreed. “Which door is it?”</p><p>“The one at the end of the hall.”</p><p>She plucked up her wineglass and makeup bag, making her way down the hall to the door. </p><p>Leslie’s room was lovely. Her duvet even matched her curtains.</p><p>“You really like purple,” She called down the hall.</p><p>“Yes, according to Jim I have impeccable taste!” Kristen nodded, turning to sit down on the bed, facing Lee’s TV. “‘Kay, I’m coming!” She appeared through the doorway, carrying her glass and an opened bottle. “What should we watch?”</p><p>“What do you have?”</p><p>“A lot of 80’s classics, mostly,” Lee reported bending down next to her stack of VHS tapes. “Breakfast Club, Back to the Future, Ferris Bueller, E.T., Ghostbusters…”</p><p>Kristen frowned. She’d heard of all those films, of course, but she’d never really been interested in watching them. “What else do you have?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Lee bent even further. Kristen averted her eyes. It was kinda warm in this room “Princess bride, Sixteen Candles, Heathers, Dirty Dancing—”</p><p>“Wait, you have Heathers? I love Heathers!”</p><p>“Same here!” Lee gasped. “God, we have to watch it.”</p><p>“We <em>have </em>to!” Kristen agreed, nodding vigorously.</p><p>Lee set it up, pushing the tape into the player and pushing start. “I already rewound it.”</p><p>“Look at you, a real forward-thinker,” Kristen giggled.</p><p>“I know, I know, they should pay me more.” Lee snatched up her glass, swallowing the wine. “‘Kay, where’s your primer?”</p><p>They sat cross-legged on Lee’s bed and Kristen felt young again, but in a good way this time, no longer like a child being punished or ignored or sat in the corner. No; she felt alive and free… and happy. She kept feeling happy.</p><p>Maybe she should leave. </p><p>“Lee, I think—”</p><p>“Careful,” She interrupted, “I don’t wanna be a doof and get foundation in your mouth.”</p><p>“Touché,” Kristen allowed, closing it.</p><p>Lee continued to move the brush. “You know I really appreciated you talking to me today. Thanks for trusting me.”</p><p>Kristen opened her mouth but… no words came. She closed it.</p><p>“You know, in Arkham, there were a lot of sick people. It took a lot for them to trust me. But I could occasionally get one of the girls to open up. There’s nothing more rewarding.” In the background, JD shot two dickheads with blanks, and Kristen flinched. “Thank you for trusting me.”</p><p>“It’s a new skill I’m learning,” She admitted. “First with Ed, and now with you.”</p><p>“How is Ed by the way? Did you get to talk to him?” Lee swapped the foundation for setting powder, snagging a sip of wine.</p><p>“I tried to ask him when he and Penguin would meet again, but he clammed up a bit,” Kristen sighed. “Honestly, it’s like pushing a boulder up a hill.”</p><p>Lee rolled her eyes. “Men.”</p><p>“Men,” She agreed. “Honestly, by the way things are looking, Penguin’s coming ‘round to him, but Ed’s just so stuck in Nygma-land that he’s not doing anything about it.”</p><p>“He is kinda shy. He seems to have a little trouble connecting to people.” Lee ran the brush over her nose and it tickled.</p><p>“Oof, Dr Thompkins knows her stuff.”</p><p>“Nose her stuff,” Lee laughed, dabbing her nose again. </p><p>She giggled. “Can I drink?”</p><p>“Go ahead.” Lee leant back and Kristen took a sip. “Honestly, so many men wait around doing nothing until they are forced to act. Jim used to bring case files on our dates because he thought he needed an excuse to see me.”</p><p>“Ugh, classic,” She took another swallow. “I had a guy only start calling me his girlfriend after he thought another man was interested.”</p><p>“Oh, god, why does it take jealousy to get a man to commit?” Lee groaned.</p><p>“Because they’re stupid,” She answered plainly. “And stupid people do stupid things.”</p><p>“Pretty much,” Lee agreed, “Although it does give me some ideas.”</p><p>“Oh?” Kristen gestured to let her know she could continue.</p><p>“Ed could be the jealous type.” Lee pulled two compacts out of her bag. “Do you want a bronzed look or a blush look?”</p><p>“I usually go blush,” Kristen told her, “But this is a makeover, so let’s go bronzed.”</p><p>“I’m used to doing that anyway,” Lee shrugged, opening up the compact and running the brush over it, tapping out the excess powder firmly. “Okay, so if Ed <em>is</em> the jealous type—”</p><p>“I just can’t picture it,” Kristen sighed, feeling the brush run over the corners of her forehead. “Ed’s so gentle.”</p><p>“Suck your cheeks in,” Lee instructed. “Well, if Ed is that gentle, maybe we should up the ante.” She moved the brush over the hollows of her cheeks. “And I know someone who could actually make a convincing distraction.”</p><p>“Who?” Kristen asked as Lee took the brush to the powder once more.</p><p>“We’ll make Jim do it,” Lee grinned, something beautiful sparkling in her eyes. She had such beautiful eyes. “It’ll be hilarious. And I’m sure Ed will react at least a little bit. It should be enough to get him thinking about making a move. Okay, eyes now.”</p><p>Kristen closed her eyes, pulling down the corners of her mouth to stretch her eyelids out. She felt Lee’s warm breath on her cheek as she leaned in close, the brush softly patting beneath her brow bone. In the background, Heather Chandler swallowed a cup of cleaning fluid and broke through her glass table.</p><p>“This colour looks good with your skin.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Kristen whispered. “You’re pretty good at this.”</p><p>“I used to practice my makeup for hours on end as soon as I got home from school.”</p><p>“Were you interested in being a makeup guru or something?”</p><p>“Honestly, I had a bit of a problem.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Krsiten didn’t want to pry, but she wanted to listen. Lee had made her feel heard and she wanted to extend the same thing back.</p><p>“Back in highschool, I was kinda into my looks. I was one of the popular kids, not the <em>bitchy</em> popular kids, but I was well-liked. And, I don’t know, highschool’s a mess. There’s always pressure to do <em>something</em>. For me, my grades were good, I got by easily. But with people… I always felt like I had to work to make it worth them spending time with me. I got really focussed on my weight, and my hair, and my makeup. I spent five years just… trying to be good enough.”</p><p>“I know it wasn’t the same way with me…” Kristen swallowed, biting her lip. She felt so vulnerable with her eyes closed, “But I understand.”</p><p>“Yeah. Thank you. High school’s a bit shit, anyway.”</p><p>She snorted. “Yeah, it is.”</p><p>“It’s alright, though. I did get some counselling — good counselling. I don’t count calories anymore, I <em>try</em> to let myself eat what I want. I have no-makeup days. Sometimes I don’t wash my hair.” She laughed. It was a sad laugh. “God, sounds funny when I say it out loud. I suppose those things feel simple to you.”</p><p>“I always have to smile.” Kristen opened her eyes not sure how she’d let the words out. Lee was looking at her, eyes a little watery. “God, sorry.”</p><p>“No, tell me.”</p><p>She took a deep breath. “I always have to smile. Especially around men. I can’t let people think I’m unhappy. I feel like… like I’m admitting something’s wrong. And for some reason that terrifies me! It’s such a small thing. Why can’t I just say when something’s wrong?”</p><p>Lee shook her head. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“I told Ed off for abandoning me and then I thought about it for two days because I’d let him know I was upset that he left me. Which is… it makes sense to be upset. So why do I feel so awful?”</p><p>“Shit, Kristen, come here.” She opened her arms and leant in. Kristen sighed, welcoming her.</p><p>Lee was warm and soft, her hair tickling Kristen’s nose until she tucked it against her shoulder.</p><p>“You smell nice,” She whispered.</p><p>“Jasmine perfume. You can borrow it if you want.” She pulled away.</p><p>“Maybe next time.” Her head felt funny. Maybe she’d had too much wine… </p><p>Lee smiled, brushing her arm with her fingers again.</p><p>...Or not enough. She grabbed her glass and downed the rest. “Did you, um, want me to do yours now?”</p><p>“Sure,” Lee breathed out.</p><p>“Or, I mean, you can do a no makeup day.” She shrugged. “For the record, you’re absolutely stunning with or without it.”</p><p>“Hmm, you realize I’m wearing makeup right now.” She raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Then take it off.”</p><p>Lee blinked. “Okay.” She fished through her bag pulling out her makeup wipes. “Help me?”</p><p>“Of course.” She quickly poured more of the bottle into her glass, swallowing that back as well. “Hand me a wipe.” She rested her hand on Lee’s shoulder, gently swiping the cloth against her skin.</p><p>“You’ll have to go harder if you want to get it off.”</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you.” She felt like she was saying more than just words, and her head was a little foggy and confusing. “You mean too much to me.”</p><p>“You mean a lot to me too, Kristen.” Her eyes were so big and brown. No makeup could alter how enchanting it was to look into her eyes and find those irises staring back at her.</p><p>“You’re beautiful, you know,” She whispered, moving her hand from Lee’s shoulder to her cheek. “Not because of the makeup, or even your face. But you’re so kind. No one has ever been so kind to me as you. I feel like you really… see me.”</p><p>“I see you.” She shivered as Lee reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And what I see is beautiful too.”</p><p>Kristen’s eyes dropped to Lee’s lips. They looked soft, inviting. “I’m about to do something incredibly stupid.”</p><p>“Then call me a fool because—” She kissed her. She actually kissed her. She kissed a woman.</p><p>
  <em>Amazing.</em>
</p><p>She pulled back, staring at Lee’s lips. She hadn’t even registered how it felt, but she knew she was shaking and she wanted to kiss her again.</p><p>So she did.</p><p>She kept her hand on Lee’s cheek and pressed their lips together, felt the way they sank into each other, cushiony and warm. She wanted to <em>taste</em> and teased out her tongue, swiping along the seam of Lee’s lips. <em>Let me in.</em> </p><p>Lee sighed against her, their noses brushing slightly as she turned her head. Her lips parted slowly.</p><p>Kristen’s fingertips were buzzing, pressed against her skin, and her blood was on fire as her breaths came quick.</p><p>“Breathe, love,” Lee whispered against her. <em>Love.</em></p><p>She leant closer, hooking her knee over Lee’s thigh, and lord, it felt good to be this close to her. Lee clutched her back, kept her steady, and it was nice to feel steady.</p><p>She curled her tongue into Lee’s mouth, scraped her palette and smiled as Lee sighed.</p><p>“Come down here,” She whispered, breaking away to lie down on the bed.</p><p>“O-okay.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Kristen was warm on top of her, sweet and pliant to her kisses, and Lee found herself dotting them down her neck before missing her lips and reaching up again.</p><p>“You’re beautiful.”</p><p>Her other hand teased at the hem of her skirt, swiped her thumb against her thigh, and it felt like a poisonous rose, with thorns hidden from sight. <em>Dangerous.</em></p><p>“So beautiful.”</p><p>Kristen made a soft, sweet mewl, and maybe Lee had drunk too much wine because all she wanted was to stay here, in the warm glow of Kristen’s body and the TV, forever.</p><p>Suddenly, keys sounded in the lock, the apartment door opening down the hall. “Lee, I’m home.”</p><p>Jim. Jim, her boyfriend. Jim was home.</p><p>“Shit.” She whispered as Kristen disappeared from her arms. She seemed frantic, fixing her glasses and attempting to tuck in her shirt where it rode up. </p><p>Lee slipped off the bed, carefully tucking the shirt in for her. “I’m sorry,” She whispered.</p><p>“Oh, there you two are.” The door opened and Lee took a hasty step away. “You two alright?”</p><p>“Yes, just helping Kristen with blouse,” Lee told him quietly. “She was trying on some of my clothes. We were doing a real makeover.”</p><p>“Uh, right,” Jim nodded, “Was that… fun?”</p><p>“Y-yeah, it was,” Kristen told him quietly. “Really fun.”</p><p>“Well, um, good.” He nodded. “Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner. Work, you know.”</p><p>Kristen just nodded. God, she looked terrified.</p><p>“There’s still some chicken in the kitchen for you,” Lee told him. “I wrapped some up and put it in the fridge.”</p><p>“Oh, good.” He turned back around, heading for the kitchen, leaving them alone.</p><p>Kristen stared at her, clearly waiting for something to happen, but she didn’t know what to say. She’d just wanted one night of fun, two girls hanging out, doing makeup and laughing at men, but now her head was swimming and her feelings felt all over her place and she couldn’t think straight.</p><p>“I need to think about what just happened,” Lee whispered. “It might take me some time.”</p><p>“Lee, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be sorry,” She shook her head, “Never be sorry. I just… need to sort through this.”</p><p>“Okay.” Kristen nodded. “I don’t know what to do now.”</p><p>“Let Jim drive you home. We’ve both had a lot to drink.” She nodded again. “I promise not to let this ruin anything.”</p><p>“Okay.” They both nodded. Lee felt like she’d dirtied her tongue on a lie, but where the lie was, she couldn’t tell.</p><p>“Jim!” She called.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Can you take Kristen home?”</p><p>“Uh, sure!”</p><p>“There you go.” They stared at each other. “Um. Don’t forget your bag.” She turned, packing up all her things strewn across the bed, kicked around by their feet as they’d kissed and sighed into each other's mouths, high on the other’s taste. </p><p>“I had a lovely time,” Kristen whispered.</p><p>Lee stared at the carpet. Kristen was pushing it around with her toes. “I had a nice time too.”</p><p>“You ready to go?” Jim’s head popped around the corner.</p><p>“Yes, I’m ready.” Kristen shot her a glance.</p><p>Lee pressed her lips together and forced a smile. “See you at the precinct. Enjoy the ride home.”</p><p>“Will do.”</p><p>“See you in a bit, Lee.” Jim stepped forward and pressed their lips together. He tasted like greasy burgers and fries. Must have been hanging out with Harvey again. Lee watched them walk down the hall, heading for the door. </p><p>Maybe Kristen would turn back again and she could capture her eyes, her smile once more. </p><p>She didn’t. The door closed.</p><p>God, what the hell was tonight? Lee flung herself back on the bed where she’d laid not ten minutes earlier. The TV continued to play, JD and Veronica making out in his car, trying to dissuade the attention of the police. Idiots.</p><p>God, doing something stupid hadn’t felt so good in years. And that was stupid. Really fucking amazing, but really stupid. She could still feel Kristen’s chest heaving against her when she closed her eyes. Damn. What a mess they’d made.</p><p>Kristen’s hair was such a gorgeous red, tangled in her finger tips, falling in her face, brushing her cheek.</p><p>What a mess.</p><p>Those lips of hers, the smooth pressure, the insistent curl of her tongue.</p><p>A complete mess.</p><p>“Got any answers for me?” She asked the ceiling. It just stared at her, like she should already know what to do. “Well, I don’t! This is a big thing, you know. I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>The apartment door opened and she sat up again, smoothing her hair back down nervously.</p><p>“Hello again.” Jim appeared in the doorway, beginning to take off his tie. </p><p>“How was Kristen? Did she say much?”</p><p>“Not really,” Jim shrugged, throwing his tie on the floor. “Seemed tired mostly.”</p><p>“Yeah. She’s pretty tired.”</p><p>“You look tired too.” He began unbuttoning his shirt.</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, glaring at him.</p><p>“Hey, I was just—”</p><p>“Forget it,” She laughed the way he liked, light and airy. He smiled. “I was just joking.”</p><p>“Okay.” He looked at the TV. “What are you watching?”</p><p>“Heathers.” </p><p>“Again?” He finished unbuttoning his shirt, throwing that on the floor too.</p><p>“It’s a good movie.” He nodded, undoing his belt. That, he had the decency to hang up.</p><p>“Kiss me?” He asked. Lee nodded, standing and kissing his cheek. “Just that?”</p><p>“Like you said, I’m tired. I might get ready for bed.”</p><p>“Okay, that’s cool.”</p><p>She opened her drawer, searching for a clean nightgown. “By the way, I need you to do something for Kristen and I.”</p><p>“Another one of your crazy schemes?”</p><p>“So what if it is?” She snatched the purple one. Maybe she had too many purple things.</p><p>“Honestly, you two are perfect for each other.”</p><p>“What?” She stared at him in his boxer shorts, stretching his arms. “What do you mean?”</p><p> “With each of her Queries, you are an echo.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re good friends, that’s all.” He sighed, shrugging.</p><p>“Oh.” Maybe he was right. Maybe they were just good friends. “Anyway, you’re going to flirt with Oswald tomorrow. In front of Ed.”</p><p>“What? No, please no.” Desperate little man.</p><p>“Just do it Jim, I’m too tired to fight.”</p><p>Jim made a face like he had sucked on a lemon but relented. “Okay fine, I suppose it’s not the worst thing I could do. I’ll ask him to come down to the precinct.”</p><p>“You do that.” Lee tugged back the covers, crawling inside and laying back to stare at the ceiling. It stared back again.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re not upset about anything?” Jim asked.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes,” She stated. “Absolutely.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Oh, Girls and Their Dolls//Oh, Boys and Their Bullshit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you seriously going through with this, Jimbo?” Harvey asked. He was frankly stunned to discover that Jim was allowing himself to be a pawn in this elaborate plan from Kristen and Doc Thompkins. Jerking Edward Nygma around was one thing, but roping Jim into it was next level crazy.</p><p>“What was I supposed to do?” Jim asked.</p><p>“Tell them no?” Harvey scoffed. “It’s really not that hard. I tell people no all the time.”</p><p>“Except me.” Jim chuckled.</p><p>“I <em>do</em> tell you no. You just do what you want anyway.” Harvey shook his head. Jim had been a pain in his ass since the moment he walked in,but he couldn’t deny how much he cared about the rookie. Especially after everything they had gone through in the short amount of time since they became partners.</p><p>“You’re not wrong.” Jim smirked and then turned his attention toward the front of the bullpen. Oswald should arrive any minute.</p><p>Truthfully, Jim didn't need much of a push to go along with <em>this </em>particular plan. His relationship with Oswald was… confusing. Damning. To the point that it was making Jim question himself. The thought had never occurred to him until the Penguin, but there was no denying the connection he felt, the ringing in his ears, or the way his stomach flipped anytime the raven-haired man was nearby.</p><p>
  <em>“Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.”</em>
</p><p>Jim sighed. Right as the words from a few days ago echoed in his mind, the Penguin entered the bullpen. The soles of his shiny dress shoes clacked on the floor and carried with them the rhythm of the Penguin’s distinctive gait. Jim sucked in a breath.</p><p>“There he is,” Harvey said, producing his ever-familiar hip flask, “Go get ‘em, lover boy.”</p><p>“Gee, thanks.” Jim gave a fake smile as he stood at his desk. He adjusted the buttons on his jacket and locked eyes with the man at the bottom of the stairs. He nodded his head to the staircase that led to the upper landing. Oswald nodded back. They had a way of communicating with one another without needing to use words. It was a language only they knew. Jim bit down on his cheek at the thought of Nygma speaking the same language. He bit harder when he realized how much it irritated him.</p><p>“Hello, old friend,” Oswald said as he neared the top of the stairs. He eyed Jim up and down and tongued at his cheek, a cat-like smile splitting his features. “It’s nice to see that you finally understand how useful our friendship is. What is it I can help you with?”</p><p>Jim looked around the bullpen at the other officers. Ed usually made his rounds delivering files and spouting off riddles at anyone who stood still long enough around this time. The man ran like clockwork. When Jim didn’t spot him right away, he leaned up against the railing a polite distance away from Penguin. “I was actually hoping we could talk.”</p><p>“Oh?” Oswald seemed nervous. The last time he’d taken the bait from Jim, it turned out to not be him at all. His instincts told him that this was another trick, but Jim Gordon was standing <em>right there</em>. In the flesh. No text messages or veiled contempt. “What about?”</p><p>“Edward Nygma.”</p><p>“What about Ed?” Oswald fluttered his eyelashes.</p><p>“I’m just curious what’s going on between the two of you,” Jim said. It wasn’t a lie. He genuinely wanted— rather, <em>needed</em> to know. For the sake of his own sanity. And also because he didn’t like the idea of Ed getting stuck in another shootout.</p><p>“What does it matter to you?”</p><p>“It doesn’t,” was his immediate reply, a growl underlying his tone.</p><p>“Well, if you must know, Edward Nygma is a friend. Much the same as you.”</p><p>“Why?” Jim made a face he hoped didn’t telegraph how he really felt.</p><p> Penguin shook his head and furrowed his brow in intense scrutiny. </p><p>Jim cleared his throat, “What I mean is why Nygma?”</p><p>“The man nearly took a bullet for me, Jim,” Oswald huffed, “I’d say that warrants a friendship.”</p><p>He hated how that made him seeth. His entire relationship with Oswald was built upon a life-debt the Penguin felt he owed. The way Oswald spoke to him and was eager to please was all because he had spared him from Falcone’s wrath. Now he was doing the same with Ed. It either meant that he had completely misinterpreted the twinkle in Oswald’s eyes this entire time… or Oswald felt the same about Ed.</p><p>“You said those men belonged to Falcone.” Jim changed the subject, “Any reason why they would want you dead?”</p><p>“It’s possible they were paid off my Maroni.” Oswald reasoned, “They seemed quite the mercenary type.”</p><p>“I thought Maroni already told you that everything was kosher.”</p><p>“He did. But, you know as well as I do that words mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. Bullets tend to speak louder.” It was true that the two rival Dons were professional men of their word, but Maroni was the type to find a way around an agreement if he spotted an opening.</p><p>“I suppose you’re right.” Jim saw the familiar brunette in a lab coat walk out of the record’s annex and glide across the bullpen. “In that case, wouldn’t it be better to stay away from him? He might get hurt if he’s close to you.”</p><p>“I’ve thought about that.” he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, “But, rest assured, I have a man in place to prevent such a tragedy.”</p><p>Jim knew what that meant. He’d noticed his own tail shortly after Oswald had returned to Gotham. That much could at least be said about the Penguin: he took care of his own.</p><p>He was jolted from his thought at the sound of Oswald laughing.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would almost say that you were jealous,” Oswald said.</p><p>Jim sighed the moment he realized that Ed had spotted them. He pushed himself away from the desk and took a step closer to Oswald. “Maybe I am.”</p><p>“I’m… sorry?” Oswald gave a nervous chuckle.</p><p>Jim ruffled his hair nervously. How was he supposed to do this? He glanced at Nygma from the corner of his eye. He was slowly stalking towards them, “I mean… We’re friends. Kind of makes me wonder if you’re tired of me and are looking to make new connections here at the precinct.”</p><p>“Jim, don’t be ridiculous,” Oswald snapped, “You’re… important to me. I’d never replace you.” He stared at the floor, too embarrassed to look Jim in the eye.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>Jim felt himself take another step closer. Before he knew it he laid a hand on the Penguin’s shoulder and instinctively ran the pad of his thumb over the fabric. It was softer than usual. It seemed Oswald was doing well for himself and had bought a new suit jacket. Falcone tended to take better care of his people than Maroni ever did.</p><p>Jim leaned in until his mouth was right by Oswald’s ear. “Good.”</p><p>He pulled back and the look on Oswald’s face made it all worth it. His freckles stood out as his skin became flushed. His eyes darted back and forth between Jim’s own and his lips were slightly parted. Jim knew he was too much of a coward to ever act on it, but he felt his mind wander at how their conversation would have gone had they been alone.</p><p>“Detective Gordon, a word,” Ed interrupted them. He flashed a smile toward Oswald but was quick to return his eyes to Jim.</p><p>“Uh… Sure.” Jim removed his hand from Oswald’s shoulder. They both shuttered at the abrupt disconnect.</p><p>He followed behind Edward as he led them to the hallway just outside the morgue. Kristen and Lee each gave him a giddiful glance in his direction. Their plan had apparently succeeded. They came to a stop as Ed spun on his heels and tucked his hands behind his back.</p><p>“Everything alright, Ed?” Jim asked, preparing himself for whatever jealous reaction he could receive from the tall forensic tech.</p><p>“I know what you’re doing.” Ed glared. . </p><p>“You do?” He raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen that look from Ed before, and it made him wonder if that was Oswald’s influence or if it had always been there lurking under the surface.</p><p>“Yes.” Ed adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight. He wasn’t used to standing up to people but, for Oswald, he would do this. He had to. Oswald deserved better.</p><p>Jim cleared his throat. He should have known Edward would have been onto them. Nygma was a genius and it should have been obvious he would see right through him. </p><p>Edward took a step forward. Slow and deliberate. He towered over Jim slightly. “I don’t know exactly what you want from Oswald, but manipulating him and abusing his trust in order to get it is wrong.”</p><p>Jim blinked. And then blinked again.</p><p>“I won’t let you hurt him.” Ed clenched and unclenched his fist. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by the detective.</p><p>“Relax, Ed. I get it.” Jim made sure to look him in the eye, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”</p><p>“It’s not about <em>me.”</em> Ed growled.</p><p>“Right.” Jim shifted on the balls of his feet, “Did you need anything else?”</p><p>“No. Just that.” Ed crossed his arms, only slightly satisfied by the flustered look on the detective’s face.</p><p>“Good. See you around, Ed.” Jim didn’t bother sticking around long enough for Ed to dig into him more.</p><p>He needed a drink.</p><p>—-</p><p><em>“What the hell was that?”</em> Oswald thought. He felt lightheaded. The whiplash that wreaked havoc on his mind each and every time he interacted with Jim seemed to be getting worse as time went on.</p><p>Sure, he enjoyed their playful back and forth, and Jim’s propensity to play hard to get, but today felt very, very different. He thought he’d been swimming to safer shores, but now he’d just been ripped away by the tide.</p><p>He sighed, looking around the precinct for some answers. Instead, he spotted a familiar face: That doctor lady, Jim’s girlfriend, the one who’d had coffee with them.</p><p>“You! You!” He snapped his fingers struggling to recall the name. “Jim’s girlfriend, come here.”</p><p>She turned, glaring at him. “It’s Dr. Leslie Thompkins.”</p><p>“Dr. Thompkins, then.” He pulled up a smile, the thinnest veneer of politeness in place.</p><p>She sighed, walking to stand next to him. “What do you want?”</p><p>
  <em>“What I want the poor have, the rich need and if you eat it you’ll die.”</em>
</p><p>Why was he thinking that? “Um, I need to talk with you about Jim.”</p><p>“What about…” She trailed off, eyes falling away from him to something behind him, “...Him?”</p><p>Oswald turned, seeing a slight girl with red hair and glasses glance their way before heading for the stairs. He felt like he recognized her, but goodness knows where from.</p><p>“Sorry, Mr. Cobblepot, would you mind if I quickly—”</p><p>“Who’s that?” He asked. Miss Leslie’s eyes darted away. “Who?”</p><p>“It’s Kristen,” She sighed. “Look, I need to talk to her, so if you’d excuse me—” </p><p>“Kristen Kringle?” He snapped. “Ed’s friend; Kristen?”</p><p>“Yeah…”</p><p>Oswald turned, walking to the stairs where Miss Kristen was idling, hearing Leslie’s hurried footsteps follow behind.</p><p>“Kristen Kringle, I presume,” He declared, tapping her on the shoulder.</p><p>“Mr. Penguin, I—” She glanced between him and the doctor.</p><p>“Dear Miss Kringle,” He snapped his fingers to get her eyes back on him, “I would like to make a formal complaint.”</p><p>“What about?” She looked away, then back.</p><p>“You deceiving my new friend and catching us both into — why do you keep looking at her?” He reeled round to glare at the doctor. “What is going on here?”</p><p>The doctor and Kristen stared at each other, words unspoken floating through the air. Her eyes dropped to her lips.</p><p>“Oh.” He smiled. “Oh, I <em>see</em>.”</p><p>“See what?” Kringle asked. <em>Oh.</em> Oh, so <em>very</em> defensive.</p><p>“Something happened between you two,” He pointed out, letting the grin cement into his skin. “Recently, too. You haven’t spoken about it yet.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“What <em>happened</em>?” He stepped closer to the doctor, laughing at how she avoided his eyes. “Oh, it can’t have been that bad. But one thing’s for certain; Detective Gordon isn’t the only one who’s been eyeing up the other team.”</p><p>Their eyes ticked like clocks between him and each other. So <em>nervous</em>. “What happened with Jim?”</p><p>“Oh, no, we’re not here to talk about Jim, we’re here to talk about <em>you</em>.” He took another step closer and she took one step back. “It was a little slip up, wasn’t it? What happened? You went out dancing at a club, one thing led to another and you woke up in the wrong bed?” He laughed, cackling harder when Dr. Thompkins rolled her eyes. “Oh, girls and their dolls.”</p><p>“Oh, boys and their <em>bullshit</em>,” She snapped. Miss Kringle simply looked at the ground.</p><p>“Oh, don’t deny what the eye can see,” He snipped. “Which leads me to this; if you want your precious little rendezvous with Lady Sappho to remain a secret, I’d advise you don’t try to mess with my dear little Eddie’s head again.” He scowled. “Now, any friend of Edward’s is a friend of mine, but no friend of Edward’s would ever do something that would make him <em>uncomfortable</em>, or <em>embarrassed</em>.”</p><p>The girls shared a guilty look before darting their eyes away.</p><p>“Because I suspect everyone here knows that Edward in no way deserves to live through Hell two times over,” He concluded decisively. “Now I will bid you good day since I believe your dear little boyfriend Jim has lured me here under false pretences. And from our <em>history</em>, you may have something to do with that.” He shook his head, “In future, take a page from my book; buy Edward a new coat. Green if you can. It’s his colour.”</p><p>With that, he strode away, rather pleased with how that went. Serves them right after all they’d done to his Edward.</p><p><em>His</em> Edward.</p><p>—-</p><p>Lee watched the man limp away to the door, leaving the precinct in a huff. She stayed staring at the door, not ready yet to turn away and press play on the real world again. Maybe if she kept watching the door, she’d gather enough nerve to do something selfish. She wanted to be selfish. Forgo the situation, toss two people’s feelings aside and say “Here. Take my hand. Let’s throw caution to the wind and be together.” It was kind of a cliché, but a nice one with a happy ending. It would be nice to have a happy ending.</p><p>“Lee?”</p><p>
  <em>Back to reality, I suppose.</em>
</p><p>“Kristen.” She turned back, remembered her father’s lectures on respect and looked her in the eye.</p><p>“You wanted to talk?” She seemed guarded, and it was a shame when the openness of Kristen’s smile had left her feeling blissful and awake many times before.</p><p>“Yes, I do.”</p><p>She pursed her lips, wrinkled her nose to push up her glasses. It was sweet. <em>God</em>, how had she never realized?</p><p>“Follow me then.” Kristen led them up the stairs through the corridor to the Annex room. Lee stopped by the door, watching. Kristen ran her finger along the edges of her filing cabinets, her face turned away.</p><p>“Hey,” It was a murmur. “Hey, Kristen.” She stilled. “Kristen, look at me, please.” Lee took a breath. She had to do this. “Kristen, please.”</p><p>“I would,” Her voice was small, and she wouldn’t turn her head, “But I have this feeling that whatever you’re going to tell me…” She finally turned. There were tears in her eyes. Lee’s chest hurt. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”</p><p>Lee pressed her lips together. “I don’t know, Kristen.” This is why she wanted to avoid all this. That sick, churning feeling in her gut like she was standing in front of the mirror and writing <em>NOT GOOD ENOUGH </em>over and over again.</p><p>Kristen sighed, shaking her head. She looked nice today. “Maybe you should just say it, Lee. Because I—” Her voice broke. Ugly how beautiful things break. “—I don’t think I’m coping very well.”</p><p>If this was easy, perhaps Lee would’ve gone to take her hand, let her rest her cheek on her shoulder, hold close. “I’m sorry, Kristen,” She began. “That’s what I want to say first.” She wasn’t looking, had her arms wrapped around her stomach and gaze on her shoes. “I shouldn’t have let what happened last night happen.” Kristen nodded, sniffing softly. “I’ve hurt three people here: Jim, you, and me. It hasn’t been fair on any of us.”</p><p>“Are you going to tell him?” Kristen asked softly.</p><p>“I refuse to lie to him, so yes, I will tell him,” She confirmed. “He doesn’t deserve this. But neither do you.” She stepped forward, daring to put a hand on her shoulder. “You are too beautiful and sweet and kind to be the girl I chose to cheat on my boyfriend with. You do not deserve to be second-place or anything like that.”</p><p>Dammit, she was really going through with this. She tried to memorize the feeling of Kristen’s soft cardigan beneath her fingertips, recall her lips, her tongue, her smile. </p><p>“Which is why…” Dammit, why did she have to do this? Tears filled her eyes and everything stung. “Which is why… why I think we should have some space from each other.”</p><p>And <em>now</em> Kristen looked at her, and it was a trainwreck in Lee’s heart to see the girl with tears rolling down her pink sheeks, her lips sucked in like she was trying so hard to be brave.</p><p>Lee pressed her lips together. “We’re still friends. But I need to give you time to forgive me.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Kristen sniffed, “You don’t need forgiveness, I’m the one—”</p><p>“You don’t have the boyfriend here, Kristen, I do. And it was my decision to cheat, so it is my responsibility to put it right,” She explained as plainly as she could. “I want you to take some time to understand why what I’ve done is hurtful. And then, if you can find a way to forgive me, I would…” She swallowed, “I would be grateful. You mean a lot to me.”</p><p>“Why did you let it happen if you thought it would hurt me?” Kristen asked, wiping her face with her sleeve.</p><p>“I wasn’t really thinking that in the moment,” Lee admitted. “I just felt so comfortable and happy with you and then… then it was happening. Jim and I have been having problems, so it just felt… so much better to be with someone who made me feel like myself, you know?”</p><p>Kristen only looked more hopeless. “If that’s true, why are you with him?”</p><p>“Well, it’s a little complicated, and I—”</p><p>“Why aren’t you with me?”</p><p>Lee blinked. “Oh, I…” She blinked again, gathering herself. “Kristen, you must see that the relationships that result from cheating are barely ever healthy. They seem like a good idea at the time, but they hardly ever are. It’s always the same story; the couple are going through a rough patch and one of them cheats and everything seems perfect with this other person because it’s someone different, but as soon as they get together, they develop their own issues and eventually go through their own rough patches and the person thinks “What was the point of being with this person in the first place” and go and cheat again. It’s a vicious cycle.”</p><p>Kristen shook her head, stepping closer. “No, Lee, I know you and you’d never be that cruel.”</p><p>“I know you think so,” She sighed. “But everyone has the potential for bad in them. That’s why choosing to be kind is never easy. But we <em>must</em> choose kindness because to hurt you,” She shook her head, “It just hurts me.”</p><p>Kristen stared at her, another tear sliding down her cheek.</p><p>“I want to do what’s right here. And doing what’s right is stopping the cycle before it can continue.”</p><p>“I… I will try to understand that,” Kristen finally said. “But… it’ll be difficult.”</p><p>“That’s okay,” Lee said. “It’ll all work out for the best.”</p><p>“I thought you said you didn’t want to lie,” Kristen whispered. Lee didn’t know what to say, so pretended she didn’t hear.</p><p>“Besides, who wants to be a freaking stereotype,” She tried a laugh, “Cheating pansexual. Not a good look.”</p><p>“You are anything but a stereotype, Lee.” Kristen wiped her eyes.</p><p>“Yes, well,” She shrugged. “I’m going to make sure of it.” She walked to the door. “Do you want me to send someone? Ed?”</p><p>“No, I think I just want some time alone if that’s okay.”</p><p>“Of course that’s okay!” She rushed to say. “Just… see you later.”</p><p>“Yeah. See you.”</p><p>Lee left the room, walking quickly to the M.E. room, pace quickening as she realized the tears gathered in her eyes were beginning to spill.</p><p>“Dammit, dammit,” She whispered, heels clicking too quick on the floor, as she slammed against the door, jiggling the handle until she could burst through. She locked it behind her.</p><p>
  <em>Dammit, dammit.</em>
</p><p>That fucking hurt, but it was <em>necessary.</em> She’d done an awful, unforgivable thing, and she couldn’t just pretend it never happened. That was Jim’s way, not hers.</p><p>Dammit, she was a horrible person. If she could betray Jim and Kristen’s trust like that, what else was she capable of? Dammit, what a fucking mess.</p><p>She walked over to her desk and sighed, wiping her eyes. It was unlikely she would get much work done today, but she’d try anyway. She was the only trained M.E. in the precinct, she couldn’t abandon them today. That would just be another sin to add to her growing pile.</p><p>She leaned her head on her desk, resting for a moment. She should really be performing Mr. Thompson’s autopsy, even if it was clearly a blunt-force trauma to the head. And if not that, she should be going to collect Ed’s slides, ask him what he’s found. But, dammit, she just couldn’t lift her head from her desk.</p><p>Kristen had looked so sad, she’d <em>cried</em>. Lee made her cry.</p><p>“I’m a horrible person,” She whispered.</p><p>
  <em>Knock, knock.</em>
</p><p>“Kristen?” She called.</p><p>“Uh, it’s Jim!” Oh. “The door’s locked.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, sorry.” She stood, wiping her eyes and checking in the glass reflection of her cabinet that her makeup was intact, fluffing her hair a little. “Coming!” She unlocked the door, letting him in. </p><p>“Right, so, just came to say that, uh, it worked; Ed’s jealous, done.”</p><p>Lee rolled her eyes instinctively. “So you’d say you’ve done a good job.”</p><p>Jim smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t say that…”</p><p>“No, I wouldn’t either,” Lee sighed. “Oswald didn’t buy it, Jim. He thinks you’re messing with him. He threatened to…” She took a shuddering breath, “To cut ties with Ed.”</p><p>“I <em>was </em>messing with him because you told me to! I’m only doing what you said.”</p><p>“You’re right! I did! Because I’m selfish, and I took things too far, and I wanted to have fun and watch two people in this god-awful city be happy for once!” She felt it bubbling in her chest. “And I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking straight, I should’ve had some goddamn common sense, but I didn’t, and now look at the fucking mess I’ve made!”</p><p>“Where is this coming from Lee?” Jim shook her head. “You don’t sound like yourself.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t I?” She snapped. “Maybe because I’m not allowed to fucking be angry with you any of the time! Because if I slip out of my goddamn “happy Lee” makeup for one second, you say “Are you okay Lee, you don’t seem yourself Lee, want a fucking glass of water, Lee?” Good job, Jim, you really know how to keep a woman happy.” Fuck, she was losing it. She shouldn’t be yelling like this.</p><p>“Why are all the women I date so neurotic?” Jim muttered.</p><p>“Oh, that’s what you think? I must be batshit for having goddamn feelings for once?” She spat. “But I guess that’s just you type! I mean, last time I checked, you had no problem pressing Penguin up against the goddamn wall.”</p><p>The colour drained from Jim’s cheeks. “Who told you that?”</p><p>“You did! Just then!” She laughed. “Not that you needed to. Every time you look at each other it’s like you’re fucking him with your eyes.”</p><p>“What, I—”</p><p>“Maybe I should have cheated on you sooner so I’d finally have reason to break up with you.” <em>Shit</em>. Shit, that’d just come out. No, dammit, that’s not how she’d planned on telling him.</p><p>Jim’s eyes hardened into something she hadn’t seen. She took a step back, suddenly very, very scared. “What did you just say, Lee?”</p><p>“Jim, please calm down, this wasn’t how I meant for this conversation to go. We’re both riled up, and I think—”</p><p>“No, Lee!” Jim’s hand slammed against her desk. “You claim to be so fucking honest, but then you go pull shit like this!”</p><p>Lee scoffed. “Um: pot, kettle, black. You’re a hypocrite.” Jim glared. “I mean, do you even care that you do bad things? Or is it fine as long as it evens out?” She stepped towards him. “At least I have the sense to regret what I’ve done. If you invited Penguin over for dinner and made out with him on your bed, I bet I wouldn’t even get an apology.”</p><p>“Kristen?” His voice was suddenly quiet. “It was with Kristen?”</p><p>Lee licked her lips. “I… I didn’t say that.”</p><p>“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He stepped even closer. She stepped back. “You and Kristen. In the apartment. Dinner. I guess you’re happy now that I was called out for a DUI crash. More time with her.”</p><p>“Don’t bully me, Jim. What happened happened. I’ll say right now, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed her.”</p><p>“Sorry isn’t good enough!”</p><p>“Then what is good enough?” She snapped.</p><p>“Not you, that’s for sure!”</p><p>
  <em>Silence.</em>
</p><p>“Lee, I didn’t—”</p><p>“I think…” She pressed her lips together. “I think we’re done here.”</p><p>“You’re right.” He nodded. “We should… we should cool off. We’ve both said some things—”</p><p>“No, Jim. I’m done.” She shook her head. “I’m really, really done.”</p><p>“You mean with us?” Jim shook his head. “But I love you, Lee.”</p><p>“I love you too, Jim. But some people just don’t work as a couple. And I’ve loved being your friend. I love you,” She told him emphatically, knowing it was true. “But I don’t like you.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I see.” He nodded. “I guess I should go then.”</p><p>“Please.” She closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly even as her heart raced.</p><p>“I’ll crash at Harvey’s tonight. He won’t mind.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“See ya.” </p><p>“Goodbye.” She waited until the door closed before opening her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve hurt three people here: Jim, you, and me. It hasn’t been fair on any of us.”</em>
</p><p>Sometimes it sucked to be right.</p><p>—-</p><p>
  <em>Looks like someone is stepping up their game. </em>
</p><p>Ed stabbed viciously at the tissue sample he was supposed to be examining, the scalpel cutting through the flesh easily. He didn’t know why he was so incensed by Detective Gordon’s flirtation with Mr. Penguin—Oswald—he reminded himself. Why couldn’t he be happy for his friend? It was mostly common knowledge that the petite gangster had a mile-wide crush on the detective that was painfully one-sided. Jim Gordon had never given any indication that he was interested in Oswald until today, which meant he clearly had ulterior motives. </p><p>
  <em>You sure about that? Maybe Jimbo has finally decided to make a move.</em>
</p><p>Ed clenched his teeth as he prepared a slide to examine under the microscope, trying to ignore the voice in his head, ignoring the way he remembered how close Jim had gotten to Oswald’s face and how Oswald had flushed pink and how shy he had looked, how he had been looking at the detective’s lips like he wanted the man to lean in those last few inches and kiss him and—</p><p>The crack of glass pulled him out of his thoughts. “Oh dear.” He quickly wound the microscope back out. He’d been so distracted that he had crushed the sample he was supposed to be examining under the lens. He brushed the ruined sample into the trash, re-gathering all the tools he needed to take another. </p><p>He didn’t trust Jim Gordon. The man was up to something and was willing to lead Oswald on to get whatever it was. And Oswald deserved better than some ill-mannered <em>neanderthal</em>—</p><p>“Ed?”</p><p>Ed gave an undignified yelp, almost crushing the second sample he was preparing. </p><p>“Am I interrupting you?” Oswald asked, an amused smile playing at the edge of his mouth as he watched him scramble up from his seat. </p><p>“No, no,” he hurried to say. “Of course not.” He adjusted his glasses nervously, only noticing after the fact that he had failed to remove his blood covered gloves. He stripped them off quickly, wiping the smear of blood from the lens before giving Oswald his attention again. “How, um, are you doing?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, real smooth there, Casanova.</em>
</p><p>Oswald merely looked amused, taking a few steps into the room so he could close the door behind him. “I just thought I would check up on you. You seemed a little stressed, my friend.”</p><p>Ed glowed at the concern. “It’s nothing, Oswald. I was just thinking about,” <em>how to murder Jim Gordon</em>—be quiet!—“um,” think of something, think of something, “about how to show you my gratitude!” he finally said. “For the suits and, and the coat.”</p><p>Oswald’s eyes softened and the smile he gave him was infinitely warmer than the one he had given Jim Gordon in the bullpen. “No need for that, my friend, I can genuinely say that this weekend was my pleasure.”</p><p>Ed tried not to blush at how Oswald said the last word, how it was almost like a purr. “But, still! I should, I should do something to show you how much our friendship means to me!” He scrambled for an idea; not used to improvising his plans. But then he was struck with an idea. “Dinner! How about dinner? Tonight? At my apartment.”</p><p>Oswald looked startled momentarily, and Ed felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. Was it too much? Was he merely being polite or—</p><p>But then Oswald smiled, giving him a look that was almost shy and lacking his usual confidence. “Dinner would be lovely,” </p><p>Ed scribbled down his address on a scrap piece of paper to hand to Oswald. “Seven o’clock?”</p><p>Oswald took it from him deftly, his fingers brushing against Ed’s knuckles and making a frisson of energy rush down his spine. “Seven o’clock it is, my friend.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chez Moi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t know why he was nervous. It wasn’t as if he and Ed hadn’t spent time together before, but it felt different anyway. All of their past interactions had been public—whether at restaurants of the club itself. They had a layer of distance between them, a forced strangulation of their interactions when prying eyes and ears were around. Being alone with Ed—and not just alone but in his apartment, his home—added a new layer of intimacy to their friendship that was uncharted territory for him.</p><p>Even though this entire venture was uncharted territory. Oswald had never had someone like Ed in his life—someone who was like a kindred spirit, someone who seemed to genuinely like and care for him. Oswald’s childhood had been fraught with cruelty—children who made fun of him for how he looked, how he spoke, his mother’s accent, the way he dressed, and anything else they could think of. His adult life hadn’t been much better even under the employ of Fish Mooney—adults just found other things to look down at him for. Even now, having muscled Fish out and with Falcone and Maroni’s time limited...nothing felt different sometimes. Falcone saw him as much of a dancing monkey as Maroni had, and Maroni…</p><p>Oswald thought back, knotting his tie aggressively at the memory of that gorilla Maroni ruining what should have been <em>his</em> night. The larger man, crowding him, trying to intimidate him just like all those schoolyard bullies. Except, that time, someone was there with him, someone who stood up for the lonely little freak in the corner. </p><p>Someone who was willing to save him. </p><p>Oswald fiddled with his cufflinks as he checked himself over in the mirror. He noticed his mother wandering into their shared bedroom through the mirror and looked at Oswald fondly over his shoulder. </p><p>“My son, so handsome,” she cooed, combing her fingers through his hair to neaten it. “What has my boy so nervous?”</p><p>Oswald smiled at her, not quite able to bring his normal confidence into the expression. “Nothing, Mother. I’m meeting a friend for dinner, that’s all.”</p><p>“A friend?” she said with a knowing sound in her voice. “Is this the handsome friend that I met in your club?” She wandered over to her boudoir, the surface covered in expensive perfumes and cosmetics that Oswald had bought her. She hunted around, looking for something. “What his name? Edward?”</p><p>Oswald squashed a blush, instead focusing on smoothing down the lapels of his suit. “Yes, Edward. He invited me to dinner at his apartment,” Oswald said. </p><p>Mother clicked her tongue in response, plucking a curved perfume bottle made of iridescent glass from her dresser. Oswald recognized it as one of his favorites—one that he sometimes wore himself—that smelled like lavender with the barest hints of sage. It edged along the lines of feminine and masculine, almost woodsy despite the floral notes. </p><p>“This one,” Mother declared and brought the bottle over, giving him one spritz against his neck. “Now, you is ready for your date.”</p><p>“It’s not a date, Mother,” he said, the word feeling heavy on his tongue. “Edward is a friend.”</p><p>Mother pursed her lips, giving Oswald a look that was familiar—the same one she used to give him as a child when he tried to skip school so he could pick up extra shifts at the diner. “But you care about him, no?” she said, and it wasn’t truly a question. </p><p>Oswald didn’t want to look her in the eyes. “He’s a friend,” he insisted, but the words felt weak even to his own ears. </p><p>Mother gave him a smile, one that was on the edge of proud and sad. She cupped his face in both her hands, and the scent of her perfume—fresh cotton and salt water—was comforting. “But you want more, no?”</p><p>“Mother,” Oswald started to say but then stopped, unsure what else he could add when faced with the truth so blatantly. </p><p>She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know my son’s heart. And I see how you look at him, like I looked at your father.”</p><p>“Mother,” Oswald said again, placing his hand over hers and squeezing. Her words were always full of melancholy when she spoke of his father. He knew nothing about him, but his mother would get this far-off look on her face sometimes, fingering the small gold ring she wore on her pinky that she never took off. </p><p>His mother waved away his concern, patting his cheek before stepping back to straighten his tie. “Life only gives you one true love” she said, voice shaky but full of conviction. “Do not forget that. When you find your one, you must run to it.”</p><p>Oswald swept her into a hug, burying his face into her hair. “I love you, anya.” he said. </p><p>She returned it just as eagerly, squeezing him tightly against her chest. “And I love you, my little Kapelput.”</p><p>—-</p><p><em>It needs more paprika.</em> That nagging voice said.</p><p>Edward took another taste of the Chicken Paprikash and made a face when he realized that Mr. Annoying Voice was right. He sighed and placed the wooden spoon next to the skillet before retrieving the sweet paprika from the cabinet. He stirred in the seasoning, took another taste, and relaxed.</p><p>He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so nervous or why he was so insistent on every detail of their evening being as perfect as possible.</p><p>
  <em>You’re just trying to make up for being such an awkward dunce before.</em>
</p><p>He shook his head. That voice was getting louder and louder each day.</p><p>He took the skillet off the heat and set it down next to the bowl of freshly made Nokedli — a recipe he had spent the <em>entire</em> evening perfecting. He clapped his hands at how beautifully everything was plated on the small table next to the kitchenette. Realizing something was missing, he opened the cabinet and produced the bottle of Morsel Riesling he thought would pair nicely with their dinner.</p><p>He took a moment to breathe and look at the time. Five minutes to spare. Finally, he could relax for a moment. But… that of course meant—</p><p>
  <em>Didn’t we plan on sharing that wine with Kristen?</em>
</p><p>Edward sat down at the table and rubbed his eyes. It was always a gamble allowing himself a moment’s peace. That voice seemed hell-bent on ruining even the briefest occasion of solace.</p><p>
  <em>Not that we’ll mind sharing it with Oswald instead. </em>
</p><p>He can almost <em>hear</em> the smile in the voice’s tone.</p><p>
  <em>We certainly wouldn’t mind seeing how the wine coats those lips of his.</em>
</p><p>He slapped himself.</p><p>
  <em>What would they taste like, I wonder?</em>
</p><p>“I need to call Oswald.” He stood up from the table, his head shaking violently. He was <em>clearly</em> not in the right mental state to be having dinner with the gangster. What was he thinking? He should just—</p><p>There was a knock at the door. Right on time. Ed froze.</p><p>
  <em>You can’t hide forever, Eddie.</em>
</p><p>Edward slid open the metal door, greeting Oswald with a smile he hoped looked genuine. </p><p>
  <em>Oh, he smells nice. </em>
</p><p><em><strong>Shut up</strong></em>, he wanted to shout, but Oswald smelled like perfume, not cologne, and somehow this detail had adhered to his other thoughts the way a song could get stuck in his head, impossible to ignore. </p><p>“Oswald,” he greeted, like he was half-surprised even though he wasn’t. </p><p>“Edward,” Oswald replied with a nod, very politely, and his lips quirked in a small smile of his own, “Good evening.”</p><p>Feeling vaguely light-headed, Ed stepped to the side, wordlessly inviting him in. <em>Stop it, you’re being awkward. </em>God, it was insistent today, but Oswald appeared entirely comfortable making himself at home himself, gaze immediately drawn to the bright neon outside the window. He handed Ed a bottle of wine almost as an afterthought, and Ed failed to point out he had already bought wine for tonight, already justifying the glow: “Rent’s cheaper.” He put the bottle down on the dresser by the door. </p><p>Oswald was shorter than him, and the stark light falling in through the windows carved his odd, tilted posture out in a halo of green. “Doesn’t it bother you?”</p><p>He blinked. “Not really. Um… let me take your coat.”</p><p>For the first time out of place, Oswald glanced at him in surprise. Gotham’s signature weather meant the thing was heavy with rainwater; how he’d managed not to wet his hair, or his face, Ed had no idea. Coat hung up, he rushed back to the kitchen with the wine, momentarily leaving Oswald to his own devices. </p><p>—-</p><p>Ed’s apartment was—-well, it was eclectic. </p><p>“Oh, dear,” he heard from the kitchenette, followed by a clinking. Oswald risked a glance, but seeing as Ed had dinner under control, he resumed pretending all was going unnoticed. </p><p>Part of him had expected him, irrationally, to inhabit a sort of live-in laboratory, an extension of his work. Edward was the clearest example of methodical, but instead of obsessively organising, he seemed to hoard. It reminded Oswald eerily of his own mother’s odds and ends, gathered and kept lovingly just in case, or for some reason that, while obvious to her, was a mystery to him. </p><p>Of course, it could also be that Ed was an avid thrift shopper. But there was one thing he did gather from his semi-authorised tour, and it was that while Ed framed photos of landscapes, cities, what have you… there were no people in them. And Oswald wasn’t stupid; he knew what it meant. The notion made him both sad and strangely, darkly hopeful. </p><p>Oswald followed him further into the apartment and they sat by a small, round table near the wall of windows. He was charmed to note the small bundle of fresh lavender that Ed had placed in the center of the table in a conical flask.</p><p>The food looked delicious. Ed had plated chicken paprikash in shallow bowls and paired it with a small pile of brussel sprouts that, unlike the soggy mess that Oswald would have normally turned his nose up at, had crispy exteriors and smelled faintly of garlic. And as if that wasn’t enough, Ed had added a few simple potato dumplings that swam in the sauce, an alternative to the spaetzle his mother usually preferred to make. </p><p>“I wasn’t aware you could cook so well,” he said as he watched Ed uncork a bottle of wine.</p><p>“Cooking is just another form of science: nothing but a mix of elements and chemical reactions, though admittedly tastier,” Ed answered with a grin that made him look boyishly charming. He poured each of them a glass in the beakers that Oswald guessed doubled as wine glasses. “It’s nice to cook for someone else for a change,” he continued, not looking at Oswald as he busied himself with straightening the cutlery. “And when you had mentioned at our lunch that your mother was Hungarian, well, I thought you might enjoy something traditional.”</p><p>“Well,” he said, soft and tentative as he licked his lips. “They do say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”</p><p>“Did you know that phrase dates back to 1869? It’s generally credited to have originated from columnist Fanny Fern who in 1855 was the highest paid columnist in the country?” Ed said cheerily as he fussed over his plate, prodding a brussel sprout that had wandered too far back into line with his fork. </p><p>Oswald allowed himself to relax, finally reaching for his silverware to cut off a sliver of chicken thigh. “You never cease to surprise me with your wealth of knowledge, Ed.” He popped the small piece into his mouth and practically moaned at the taste. “Dear lord,” Oswald said, patting his mouth with the napkin. “This tastes amazing.” It was, admittedly, actually better than his mother’s recipe—not that he would ever tell her. She always made it with an extra dash of cayenne pepper like <em>her</em> mother had, and the extra spice had always been a little overwhelming to him. </p><p>Ed visibly preened at the compliment. “Make sure to save room for dessert. I made plum dumplings, with damson plums instead of italian plums. I hope you don’t mind; I thought the tartness would be a better match.”</p><p>Oswald groaned a little at the thought even as he speared a brussel sprout. “Szilvás gombóc is one of my favorites. I think you are trying to kill me, Ed.”</p><p>He laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a shock? The infamous Penguin: done in by dessert.”</p><p>Oswald didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Seems like you have found my weakness, Mr. Nygma. Use this knowledge carefully.”</p><p>“Always.” And his smile made Oswald’s heart flutter and heat crawl up his cheeks. </p><p>“I’m glad you could make it tonight, Oswald,” Ed said after a moment, the two of them having lapsed into silence as they ate. “It’s...nice. Especially after…”</p><p>Oswald made a small noise of agreement. “There has been a lot of tension in our shared circle as of late,” he admitted. “This is a pleasant change of tone.”</p><p>“They’ll work it out,” Ed shrugged and adjusted his glasses. They were getting steamed up by the food. </p><p>Oswald bit down on a smile. “I hope so.”</p><p>Silence fell for a short moment. He felt the warmth fade from his face.</p><p>“Ed.” He rolled the fork between his fingers. “The way you intervened today was… unnecessary.” He saw Ed pout and quickly continued, “But it was appreciated.”</p><p>“I didn’t think it was unnecessary,” Ed mumbled, looking down at his food. </p><p>“I just told you it was.” Oswald licked his lips, stifling the twinge of annoyance. “Jim and I have something of a multifaceted friendship, but today was not something I would care to repeat, at least… not under the current circumstances.”</p><p>Ed shoved a forkful in his mouth and swallowed. “What are the current circumstances?” </p><p>Oswald studied him in the dim green light of the neon sign. Despite the time they had spent together, he still couldn’t figure him out; and when he thought he had, something always happened to still vaguely suggest the opposite.  “I’ve grown fond of you, Ed,” He said, “You’ve been a good friend.”</p><p>Ed glanced up at him over his glasses and smiled, quick and genuine, if a little awkward. </p><p>He wondered if he was pushing it; but he had already taken several sips of his wine, and it had been far too long since he’d said an honest word to another human being. It’d been a while since he’d talked so freely with anyone, and while Ed from Forensics was probably the last person in the world he could’ve suspected of being his match, here they were. </p><p>He knew he was drinking fast, but such was the curse of good wine; it’d been paired brilliantly with the food, so much so he was barely even offended they weren’t drinking his. That could come later. Who knew? </p><p>By the time they were done with the meal, they’d already opened the second bottle anyway—a united effort—and were enjoying it with dessert.</p><p>He mustered his courage and set his glass down, finding comfort in the slight swim to his thoughts.</p><p>“I hope you’ll understand,” He began, quite bravely, “The way things may have appeared with Jim was… not my intention.”</p><p>“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ed interrupted, taking another hasty sip of his wine. “Jim was out of line.”</p><p>“Perhaps, but I allowed it.” He looked away, unable to meet Ed’s eyes. “It was something my mother said to me once. It is,” He chuckled, “Not easy to be bold in love. Not easy to say yes… and not easy to say no.” He smiled into the glass. </p><p>“For me, I find that, um…” Ed leaned closer and rested an elbow on the table, settling into a slightly more casual, if impolite, pose. When he wasn’t slouching, the breadth of his shoulders showed even more; his face was flushed from the alcohol. “It’s hardest, sometimes, to be noticed in the first place.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Well, I…” Ed shrugged with one shoulder, cheeks colouring from more than just the wine, “I’ve been trying to get… Miss Kringle’s… attention for quite some time now, but she only sees me as a friend.”</p><p>Oswald put the glass down with a dull thud barely louder than his heart’s. “Miss Kringle?”</p><p>Ed’s round brown eyes stared back at him. “Kristen, yes.”</p><p>“I thought,” He began, and bit his tongue. “I thought… Kristen’s interest lies elsewhere.”</p><p>“It does?” Ed asked, quick and flat, eyes going wide.</p><p>“Well,” Foolish, childish anger ran through him like a current, “It’s certainly not my business to discuss.”</p><p>“Oswald…”</p><p>He inhaled sharply, smearing what remained of his dessert around the plate with his fork. “It’s nothing, my friend. I shouldn’t have said anything. I was simply unaware of your interest in Miss Kringle.” But he shouldn’t be surprised: the woman was beautiful, smart, and everything a man like Ed should be interested in.</p><p>“Oswald,” Ed reached across the table to lay a hand on his, stopping him from where he was pushing around his food. “You’re my friend, right? And friends talk to each other. Miss Kringle…” Ed sounded despondent as he said the woman’s name, and it made something ugly in Oswald flare up. </p><p>“You never had a chance with her, Ed,” he spat out, wrenching his hand away.</p><p>Ed looked hurt, his large brown eyes large behind his glasses and half-clutching his hand to his chest. “Why would you say that? She’s always nice to me and gives me hugs and brings me coffee in the morning, and she smiles at me whenever I am nearby.”</p><p>Oswald laughed, and it wasn’t a kind laugh. “You follow her around like a lost puppy, and you think just because she throws you a bone every once in awhile it means she would want to date you? News flash, Ed.” He smiled cruelly. “People like her don’t date freaks like us.”</p><p>“Oswal—”</p><p>“So you need to wake up from whatever dream land you have been living in, because she’s <em>never</em> going to go out with you,” he continued. “It’s <em>pathetic</em>. So, you should just give up—”</p><p>“Like you gave up on Jim?” Ed suddenly cut in, and his voice was flat. His eyes, that a moment ago had been wide and confused and hurt, were now dark and cold. “You call <em>me</em> a puppy, but everyone at the station knows that all Jim has to do is come calling, and you’d drop everything just for a pat on the head.”</p><p>Oswald fumed. “That’s not the—”</p><p>“Same thing?” Ed continued. “Why? Because he saved your life? But that doesn’t change the fact that Detective Gordon only comes running to you as a last resort, and even then, he hates it. But you bend over backwards for him anyway! How many favors have you done for him now?” Ed’s words were sharp like a knife. “And how many has he done for you?”</p><p>Oswald clenched his fist. “Jim is my friend.” He didn’t know when he had stood up or when Ed had done the same. </p><p>Ed’s laughter was chilling. “Is that what you call it? You call me pathetic, but at least Kristen is kind to me. Jim treats you like the stray dog he can’t get rid of.”</p><p>Oswald hated every word, because he knew it was true. He had so few friends in his life, so few, that he clung to those who gave him the barest inch of kindness. He blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. “Then what is this, Ed?” He gestured to the apartment around them, the discarded dinner, and the space between them. “Are we friends, Ed? Because if that’s all this is, it’s no wonder you haven’t gotten anywhere with your lady love.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“This,” Oswald repeated, gesturing again. “You’re always nice to me. You’re always smiling at me when I’m around. You hold my hand when we talk. You let me buy you presents. Sound familiar?”</p><p>Ed sputtered. “Are you suggesting…”</p><p>“I’m suggesting this.” And he lunged forward, grabbing Ed by the collar of his shirt to pull him down and press their lips together. It wasn’t a good kiss; their teeth clanked and the angle was off, but it was still Oswald’s first kiss. He stumbled when Ed pushed him away, almost falling over as he put too much weight on his bad leg.</p><p>The look on Ed’s face was indescribable, and Oswald felt his heart break. It wasn’t just confusion, it was disgust, his mouth turned down as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. </p><p>Oswald laughed, and it edged on insane to his own ears. “Miss Kringle isn’t the only one sending mixed signals, Ed.”</p><p>The chair clattered to the floor, and suddenly Ed was standing, towering over him. Eyes wild, Ed’s hands twitched at his sides. </p><p>Oswald instinctively glanced towards the serrated knife on the other side of the table and his stomach lurched, crashing back to sobriety. He’d misstepped. Clearly he’d misstepped. </p><p>Guilt flooded his veins, curdling his blood. This was salvageable, right? He could fix this. He just needed to diffuse the situation. Cautiously, he stepped forward, aiming to get between Ed and any sharp objects, just in case. </p><p>“Ed, are you—”</p><p>Ed jerked backward, as if shoved. </p><p>“No, I’m not sending—I didn’t, I…<em> Get out!”</em> He shrieked.</p><p>Oswald recoiled. He’d gone too far. </p><p>He forcibly shut those feelings off like a tap being wrenched shut. With a deep breath, he grabbed his coat and walked out the door, with one last glance back at Ed, eyes glazed off into the distance, a hand pressed over his lips.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Mr. Scapula Bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Blame me -Zebra</p><p>Oops! Some of the chapter was missing so I fixed it. -MissVile</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I have to talk to you,” were the first words out of his mouth as he walked through the door to the forensics lab that Monday morning. “Something terrible has happened!”</p><p>He pulled over a chair. “Mr. Scapula Bones, you have no idea what I’m feeling.”</p><p>The skeleton stared at him, surprised by his sudden rush of emotions this early in the morning.</p><p>“I know, I’m sorry, I should calm down first.” Ed inhaled slowly through his nose before exhaling through his mouth. “Okay, so here it is: Oswald said I’ve been sending mixed signals! Me! I hate mixed signals, why would I send them!?” He shook his head. “It’s all very distressing. Anyway, Oswald kissed me! And it was…” <em>Not that bad? No!</em> “It was disgusting! He tasted like a man and that isn’t good.”</p><p>Mr. Scapula stared at him.</p><p>“This is very important! I can’t have Oswald thinking I’d want him kissing me! That wouldn’t do.”</p><p>Mr. Scapula didn’t seem to agree.</p><p>“Fine, well, that wasn’t the only bad thing he told me! He said that Kristen wasn’t interested! How would he know? Maybe she is interested and she hasn’t realized it yet because we haven’t gone on a proper date or kissed or anything.” He nodded. “Those things are very important.”</p><p>Ed moved Mr. Scapula’s arms into a shrug.</p><p>“It really is about time I asked her out, don’t you think?”</p><p>Mr. Scapula’s empty sockets stared back at him.</p><p>“Besides,” He sighed, “I need to show Oswald he was wrong about me. I can’t have him thinking I’m some kind of…” He shuddered. “<em>Penis</em> lover.”</p><p>Mr. Scapula seemed to agree.</p><p>“Although,” He supposed, “You can tell a lot about a male corpse from their penis.” He thought about what he might tell from Oswald’s penis if he was a corpse. “What was I thinking about again? Oh, Kristen!”</p><p>“Get to the point, you maggot!” Ed shifted Mr. Scapula’s jaw as he spoke.</p><p>“Please don’t call me that, Mr. Scapula, it’s very rude,” He tsked.</p><p>“You’re a maggot!”</p><p>“Well, at least I’m alive!” He taunted. Mr. Scapula’s jaw dropped. “You’re right, that was too far.”</p><p>“Yes! Too far, too far!” Scapula crowed.</p><p>“Do you mind, Mr. Scapula, if I practice talking to you? I have intentions on asking someone out.”</p><p>“Mr. Penguin?”</p><p>“No!” Ed frowned. “No, no, no, I mean <em>Kristen.</em> You remember her.”</p><p>“The one with the pretty red hair!”</p><p>“Yes, that one,” He agreed. “Let’s try it, shall we?”</p><p>“Okay!” </p><p>“Right.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he imagined Kristen in Mr. Scapula’s place. “Hello, Kristen,” He began.</p><p>“Oh, hiiii, Ed,” Mr. Scapula replied in a too-high voice. “It’s soooo nice to see you!”</p><p>“Yes, um—”</p><p>“Do you think I’m preeeeettttyyyy?”</p><p>“Yes, of course I do, Kristen!” He rushed to say.</p><p>“Then why are you always thinking about Mr. Penguin? Surely you don’t like him better than me!”</p><p>“Of course not!” Ed gasped. “You’re so nice and Oswald’s… well Oswald is nice too, but—”</p><p>“Ugh! You <em>do </em>like him better! I’m leaving!” He began rolling Scapula away.</p><p>“No, Kristen! Please stay, I—”</p><p>“Um, Ed?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh dear.</em>
</p><p>Slowly, he looked up to see Kristen’s concerned face. “Who are you talking to, Ed?”</p><p>“Uhmm…” Oh dear, this was real, <em>oh dear</em>. “M-Mr. Scapula has a problem with his femurs. I’m trying to help him with it.”</p><p>“I’m going to pretend to believe you because you’re my friend and I don’t judge,” Kristen stated slowly.</p><p>“Yeah thanks.” Ed winced, slowly rolling Mr. Scapula back to his place. “Is there anything I can help you with?”</p><p>“No, I just wanted a break from filing,” Kristen sighed, walking further into the room to stand by his side. “So this is Mr. Scapula?”</p><p>“Yes. He was a doctor until he got his title taken away for using his subject’s bones for personal decoration,” He told her. “Personally, I wouldn’t choose to associate with such a man but, you know.” He shrugged. “He’s dead. Besides,” he looked back at the skeleton’s cold, empty sockets, “he was my best friend before you showed up.”</p><p>Kristen smiled, but she still looked sad. How could a smile be sad?</p><p>“Stop doing that.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re smiling but it’s sad. It’s scary,” he explained.</p><p>“You’re right, that’s probably confusing. I’m sorry.”</p><p>He nodded. “No harm done. Would you like to shake Mr. Scapula’s hand? He’s very eager to meet you!”</p><p>“It’s always nice to meet a lovely lady!” Mr. Scapula cried as Ed moved his jaw. “Tell me, are you married to the idea of keeping your bones? Because I know someone who could use a set of carpals as nice as yours!”</p><p>Kristen giggled, taking Mr. Scapula’s hand. “I’d like to keep them, please, but very nice to meet you!”</p><p>“Oh, shucks,” Scapula sighed. “You know, we should have a drink sometime! I’ll order a cabernet wine with a full body, because I don’t have one!”</p><p>“That sounds lovely!” Kristen laughed loudly.</p><p>Ed swallowed. “Would you actually have a drink with me?”</p><p>“Of course,” She smiled, “It’s always nice to have a drink with a friend.”</p><p>“Oh, well, that’s—”</p><p>“The maggot didn’t mean as a friend!” The skeleton crowed. “He wants a date!”</p><p>Everyone in the room paused.</p><p>“Uh, sorry, um,” Ed felt the air around him begin to buzz, “Mr. Scapula can be rather rude. He needs to calm down.”</p><p>“I am calm!” He objected. “Nothing can get under my skin!” Ed stopped moving his jaw, slowly turning to look at Kristen. </p><p>She seemed… confused.</p><p>“Sorry,” He muttered, ducking his head..</p><p>“Why do you want to go on a date with me, Ed?”</p><p>“No reason!” He rushed to say. “You don’t have to, of course.”</p><p>“Ed, please tell me,” Kristen sighed. </p><p>He pursed his lips, looking at his shoes. Interesting leather ones. Oswald had bought them for him. </p><p>“Maybe Mr. Scapula can tell me,” She suggested. </p><p>He looked up, biting his bottom lip.</p><p>“Oh boy, of course I can tell you, Miss Kringle!” Scapula exclaimed. “Ed’s liked you for a very long time, he has. Very eager to spend time with you, he is!” </p><p>Ed looked away again.</p><p>“Mr. Scapula, are you absolutely <em>sure</em> that Ed is interested in me romantically? It’s very easy to be confused.”</p><p>Ed frowned, his brows furrowed. </p><p>“Of course, he likes you romantically!” Mr. Scapula squawked. “You’re beautiful and intelligent! And you’re a girl, and there’s nothing confusing about that!”</p><p>“What about Dr. Thompkins? She’s beautiful and intelligent and a girl, and Ed likes her,” Kristen pointed out.</p><p>“Yes, but Lee was with Detective Gordon!” Ed told her, forgetting to move Scapula’s jaw. “And I already liked you before she came to work here!”</p><p>Kristen’s face had changed. It was… strange.</p><p>“What’s happening?” he asked.</p><p>“You said Lee <em>was</em> with Detective Gordon. <em>Was.</em>”</p><p>“Well, yes,” he frowned. “They broke up.” </p><p>Kristen exhaled shakily, crossing her arms over her chest.</p><p>“Did you not know this?”</p><p>“When did they break up?” Her voice wavered like a weak radio signal.</p><p>Tears were gathering in her eyes! That wasn’t okay!  “I had no idea you relied on their relationship for a source of comfort! I’m so sorry to have told you in such a casual way; I should have considered your feelings.”</p><p>“No, Ed.” She shook her head, huffing softly, “It’s not that. Just…w-when did they break up?”</p><p>Ed hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure…” he admitted slowly. “But it’s okay! It’s probably for the best. They were fighting all the time.”</p><p>“Were they?” She sniffed, wiping her eyes. What was going on?</p><p>“Yes, I’ve walked into them yelling in the morgue lot’s of times. Why are you so upset?”</p><p>Her head dropped again, long bangs hiding her face from view, and his heart fell. He looked around his lab, as though the answer to Kristen’s emotional turmoil would present itself. When his eyes fell back on Mr. Scapula, he grabbed the bony jaw once more, offering a wobbly smile to Kristen. “Do you need a hug, Miss Kringle?” </p><p>Raising her head, her hand to her mouth, she looked between Mr. Scapula and Ed and her face creased with pain. “Dammit, Ed.” She suddenly buried her face in his shoulder, clutching him close. </p><p>He froze, unsure how to proceed. Should he hug her back? His arms were in a very awkward position, what with his hand still holding Mr. Scapula’s jaw.</p><p>“Wow! I haven’t seen this much salt water since my trip to the seaside in ‘63!” Mr. Scapula squawked in a vain attempt to dispel the tension.</p><p>“Ed,” Kristen leant back, “I need to tell you something.” </p><p>Ed slowly let go of the skeleton’s jaw. “Yes?”</p><p>“So,” She licked her top lip, blinking away some tears as she took a slow, steadying breath. “Something happened. Between Lee and I.”</p><p>“Like, a fight? I know you two haven’t been hanging out as much.”</p><p>“No, not a fight…not really…” She sighed, scrubbing at her eyes and smearing her masara. “Lee and I… we, uh, kissed.”</p><p>“Kissed?” Ed frowned, slowly shaking his head. “That can’t be right.” </p><p>“I think I know what happened, Ed. I was there.”</p><p>“But…” He shook his head. That made no sense.</p><p>“But what, Ed?”</p><p>“She’s a girl! You can’t kiss a girl.”</p><p>Kristen’s eyebrows rose.“I think you’ll find it’s entirely possible.”</p><p>“But why would you do it?” He asked. “She’s a girl.”</p><p>“Because I like her, Ed,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “I really really like her.”</p><p>“You like her…enough to kiss her?” Ed said, trying to wrap his mind around it.</p><p>Kristen offered him a small smile and a half shrug. “I guess so,” she said. Sometimes…you just know, you know? Like with you and Oswald.”</p><p>“Oswald?” Ed repeated, his eyes going wide. “I-I don’t like Oswald. I like you!”</p><p>“And how do you know that?” She sniffed, crossing her arms. “What makes you sure? Because from what I’ve seen, you like him a lot.”</p><p>“But… but…” Ed shook his head. “But he’s a man. And you’re a girl.”</p><p>“God, Ed, gender has <em>nothing</em> to do with love,” She groaned. “How can you not see that?”</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Have you ever heard love is blind?” Kristen asked. “Well, sometimes it’s genderless too. Love is love. It can happen between anybody.”</p><p>“But I’m sure I love you!” He told her. “I think you’re warm and nice.”</p><p>“And what about Oswald?” She asked. “How do you feel about him?”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Ed admitted. “But it can’t be love.”</p><p>“Well, I’ll tell you how I feel about Lee,” She said, “I feel like Lee… Lee is just so… so fucking beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking of her. She’s distracting; she makes all my feelings seem one hundred percent bigger. I feel like I’m… myself around her. She reminds me that who I am is an okay person to be. I feel like I could live with her forever and… and still want to spend time with her.” She poked him in the shoulder. “Is that how you feel about me?”</p><p>“Yes! Yes, it’s…” He trailed off, lowering his eyes as he took in the words. “No. No, it isn’t. I love spending time with you, but it’s not…”</p><p>“Not the same? I know.” She nodded. “That’s exactly it.”</p><p>Oh dear. “That means… means I’ve been pining over you for months for no reason!” Ed shook his head. “Why did I do that?”</p><p>Kristen shrugged. “Because it was safe?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Ed shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to think about it.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Ed,” She sighed. “But I’m glad you love me as a friend. I love you as a friend too.” She smiled. “So that’s something.”</p><p>“I think so too.” He agreed. He put his hand on the skeleton’s jaw.</p><p>“Me as well!” Mr. Scapula said.</p><p>“How’s another hug sound?” Kristen asked.</p><p>“Alright by me.” </p><p>She leaned in and closed her arms around him. </p><p>It was warm and it was nice. Just that. “You’re quite smart, aren’t you Kristen?”</p><p>“I like to think so,” She giggled.</p><p>“I’m still a little confused about what you told me about Lee. Could you explain it for me?”</p><p>She sighed, pulling away. “We need tea for this.”</p><p>—-</p><p>“Finally, the coffee date I always wanted!” </p><p>Ed was sweet, joking with her. She was glad things weren’t too awkward between them. Honestly, Ed had come a little out of left field with his whole ‘date me’ thing. Thank god that was sorted out.</p><p>“Technically, this is peppermint tea,” She pointed out. “Too bad Mr. Scapula couldn’t come with us.”</p><p>“He doesn’t get out much,” Ed told her. “Bit of an agoraphobe.”</p><p>“That’s too bad. He seems like he’d be the life of the party.” Kristen snorted, shaking her head. It was a little odd that Ed was talking to a skeleton and making it talk back like another person, but it kinda made sense. She knew how hard it was being alone. Even a pretend friend was better than nothing.</p><p>“Kristen, now that we have our tea,” Ed began, staring down at his cup, “Would you want to maybe talk about what happened with Lee?”</p><p>“I suppose I should tell someone,” She sighed, “If only for my own sanity.” She blew on her tea, taking a small sip. “Okay, well, you know Lee and I were friends.”</p><p>“With you on that,” Ed confirmed, nodding.</p><p>“Well, she invited me over for a girls’ night. Just a little light fun – makeovers and movies and wine.” She shrugged.</p><p>“I understand that this is something women do.” Ed nodded solemnly.</p><p>“Yes, well, we had dinner—”</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you for going to so much trouble, it’s been a while since someone cooked for me.”</em>
</p><p>“—And decided to go have a makeover.”</p><p>
  <em>“Take me back to my teen years, why don’t you? This should be fun.”</em>
</p><p>“We went to her room—”</p><p>
  <em>“Actually, we might as well just do this in there. My makeup’s in there and I have a mirror we can use.”</em>
</p><p>“—Put on a movie—”</p><p>
  <em>“Wait, you have Heathers? I love Heathers!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Same here!”</em>
</p><p>“And she started doing my makeup.”</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t wanna be a doof and get foundation in your mouth.”</em>
</p><p>“We got to talking.”</p><p>
  <em>“You know I really appreciated you talking to me today. Thanks for trusting me.”</em>
</p><p>“About you.”</p><p>
  <em>“Honestly, it’s like pushing a boulder up a hill.”</em>
</p><p>“About men.”</p><p>
  <em>“So many men wait around doing nothing until they are forced to act. Jim used to bring case files on our dates because he thought he needed an excuse to see me.”</em>
</p><p>“High school.”</p><p>
  <em>“I spent five years just… trying to be good enough.”</em>
</p><p>“Our entire belief systems.”</p><p>
  <em>“It makes sense to be upset. So why do I feel so awful?”</em>
</p><p>“She hugged me.”</p><p>
  <em>“Shit, Kristen, come here.”</em>
</p><p>“She smelled nice.”</p><p>
  <em>“You smell nice.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Jasmine perfume. You can borrow it if you want.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Maybe next time.”</em>
</p><p>“I tried to get us back on track.”</p><p>
  <em>“Did you, um, want me to do yours now?”</em>
</p><p>“But…” </p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want to hurt you. You mean too much to me.”</em>
</p><p>“But…”</p><p>
  <em>“You’re beautiful, you know.” </em>
</p><p>“But she was so beautiful, you know.”</p><p>
  <em>“Not because of the makeup, or even your face. But you’re so kind. No one has ever been so kind to me as you. I feel like you really… see me.”</em>
</p><p>“She was so…” </p><p>
  <em>“I see you. And what I see is beautiful too.”</em>
</p><p>“And it felt like one thing led to another.”</p><p>
  <em>“I’m about to do something incredibly stupid.”</em>
</p><p>“I couldn’t help myself.”</p><p>
  <em>“Then call me a fool because—” </em>
</p><p>“I kissed her.” She looked up from her tea, meeting Ed’s eye. “I kissed her, and nothing had ever felt so right.” The world shook a little, and she glanced down to notice the earthquaking tremor in her hand. She put her cup down, glad it hadn’t spilled and twisted her hands in her lap.</p><p>It felt different, speaking what happened aloud. She’d opened her Pandora’s box, and now she would never be able to close it.</p><p><em>Wreak havoc, oh violent thoughts, for I cannot bury you again.</em> </p><p>“Interesting,” Ed assessed. “Then what happened?”</p><p>She looked back down at her tea, still too shaky to pick it up. “Then Jim came home.” She closed her eyes, not allowing her brain to pull forth that set of particular memories. “I don’t think he suspected anything. He even drove me home.” She shook her head. “He was polite. Asked how I was. Talked about whatever case he was working. Idled on the street until I’d gotten safely to my door.”</p><p>“Jim’s not that nice. You should’ve seen the way he treated—” Ed cut himself off. “Um, anyway, what happened next?”</p><p>“The next day, Lee and I went to the Annex room to talk.”</p><p>
  <em>“I have this feeling that whatever you’re going to tell me… I’m not going to like it, am I?”</em>
</p><p>“She basically told me we shouldn’t hang out anymore. She blamed herself for everything even though <em>I’m</em> the one who initiated it, it was me.” She dipped her pinky in the tea, swirling it around. “It wasn’t her fault.” She licked it dry.</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t have the boyfriend here, Kristen, I do. And it was my decision to cheat, so it is my responsibility to put it right.”</em>
</p><p>“I asked her why she couldn’t be with me. She basically said the only reason she cheated was because her and Jim were going through a rough patch.” Kristen shrugged, the lights and noise of the café bursting against her skin like bubbles. “I suppose I just don’t matter as much to her as she does to me.”</p><p>Ed was frowning. “That would be awful if it was true.”</p><p>“If?” She sniffled. “It’s true, and I have to accept it.” Damn, but it hurt.</p><p>She snatched a napkin off the table, wiping her eyes. “But enough about me,” she said, forcing a chuckle. “How is everything with Penguin?”</p><p>“I haven’t been speaking to him.” Ed looked away, a dent in his bottom lip.</p><p>“Did you have a fight?” She asked. “I kinda thought you two were dating, but I suppose you’re not now that you’ve gone and asked me out.”</p><p>“We… We weren't together.”</p><p>“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “Um… okay?”</p><p>“I mean… we were friends and…” Ed licked his lips. “And there’s a <em>possibility</em> that he liked me, but I’m pretty sure that I’d never want to date him.”</p><p>“I… what?” Oh shit, that can’t be good. “You mean you haven’t had a crush on him all this time?”</p><p>“No!” Ed exclaimed, mouth agape. “No, I-I could never!”</p><p>“Oh, god, Ed, I’m so sorry.” Ugh, time to slam her head on the table because, <em>god</em>, what a mess.</p><p>“Why are you sorry?”</p><p>“I’ve spent, like, the last <em>month </em>trying to get you and Oswald together!” She wished she could sink into the floor, she was so embarrassed.</p><p>“Are you serious?” Ed gasped. “Why?”</p><p>“I thought you liked him!” She jiggled her leg, embarrassed. “You were always talking about him! I wanted to help my friend out, be a good wing woman. I think you’re cool and you deserve to be happy.”</p><p>“With <em>Oswald?</em>” he squawked, starting to sound a little like Mr. Scapula. “Oswald Cobblepot?”</p><p>“You were so interested in him, and I saw the way you stared at him! I even caught you doodling his name one time!”</p><p>“I was just… just because you write a man’s name on a police report once in a while, doesn’t mean you have a crush on him!”</p><p>“Okay, I guess I see that now!” She sighed, clutching her head. “I really am sorry, Ed.” </p><p>She slowly pulled herself out of her hands, chancing a glance at his face. He was unusually still, staring at her cup like it had offended him. Shit, she’d really done it this time. How was she supposed to make up for—</p><p>“You really went to all that trouble just for me?” Ed said, very quietly and still staring into his tea</p><p>“Of course, I did,” she said quietly. “You make me smile, Ed. And you’ve made me feel a little lighter these days. Especially after all that mess with officer Dougherty. I just really want to see you happy.”</p><p>“I want to see you happy, too.” </p><p>She smiled at him, and Ed returned it, a little lopsided. He glanced away before meeting her eyes again. “You really like Dr. Thompkins, don’t you?”</p><p>“I really do,” She said with a sigh. “Not that that mess is ever gonna happen.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Ed said with a sudden conspiratorial grin. “Do you mind if I drink my tea and run? I’ve got somewhere I have to be.”</p><p>Kristen blinked, not sure what had prompted the sudden change of mood, but nodded. “Go ahead. Thanks for asking for once.” She winked.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry about that.” He winced, sheepish, before pulling out a grin. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”</p><p>“You better,” she called.</p><p>“Oh, trust me.” He swooped away, snatching up his green coat, “I will.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Ed checked his watch. There was still plenty of time to talk to Lee before she left for the evening.</p><p>“We doing this?” He whispered. “No, yes, of course we’re doing this. This is important.”</p><p>He tapped his knuckles on the M.E. glass door, peering through. “Lee, are you there?” </p><p>
  <em>What are you doing?</em>
</p><p>“I’m calling for Lee.” He saw a silhouette approach through the glass. “Lee, it’s me!” </p><p>“Ed,” She opened the door, “Are you okay? Do you need something?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” he dismissed. “Look, can we talk?”</p><p>“Sure, um,” She backed out of the doorway to let him through, “What about?”</p><p>He waited until she was sitting by her desk before answering. “Kristen.”</p><p>Lee’s lips twitched and the steel behind her eyes hardened. “Um, what about Kristen?” </p><p>“I believe you may have really hurt her. I would like to know why.” He clasped his hands behind his back.</p><p>“You can tell her I’m sorry about that. I never wanted to hurt her in the first place.”</p><p>He took off his coat and hung it on the rack in the corner before pulling one of the office chairs over to sit across from her. He ruffled his hair and then let out a heavy sigh, “Is it true she kissed you?”</p><p>“Yes.” Lee admitted as she cleared her throat, “You know that kiss came out of nowhere, but I feel like I should’ve seen it coming.”</p><p>
  <em>You’ve been sending mixed signals.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>God, I should’ve seen it coming.</em>
</p><p>“How could you know?” He asked. “Did she give you some kind of sign?”</p><p>“There were signs, yes.” She pressed her lips together. “Now that I think about it, it’s like it was obvious.”</p><p>“What signs?” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair</p><p>“The way she smiled at me.” <em>Oswald’s slow smirk like he had a secret buried in his teeth.</em> “It always made me feel special.”</p><p>He swallowed. “What else?”</p><p>“She gave me compliments.”</p><p>
  <em>“Looking quite dashing, my friend.”</em>
</p><p>“Told me secrets.”</p><p>
  <em>“You just admitted another murder to me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Will you tell anybody?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Never.”</em>
</p><p>“There were things she told me that I doubt she told anybody else in her life.”</p><p>
  <em>“I was bullied a lot as a child.”</em>
</p><p>“B-but—” Ed shook his head, “Aren’t those things that friends do? What makes it more than friends?”</p><p>“I suppose…” She furrowed her brow in thought.  “I suppose it might be different for her, but for me it’s this feeling I get when I’m around her. It makes me want to stay and… care for her, I guess. I don’t have to prove anything; that I’m good enough, or intelligent enough, or <em>nice</em> enough. I just want to… be there.” She sighed, leaning back. “God that probably makes no sense.”</p><p>“You’re right. It doesn’t, because I can feel those things for my friend too.” He crossed his arms. “Well, my sort-of friend.”</p><p>“You mean Kristen?” Lee asked.</p><p>“No, <em>Oswald</em>,” he snapped.</p><p>Lee frowned. “I thought you liked Oswald?”</p><p>“Of course you think that! Everyone thinks I’m in love with Oswald, la-di-da, I want to kiss him and spend time with him and hug him and smell his nice perfume and hold his hand!” What started out mocking had turned into… something else. He glanced up at Lee who was looking at him strangely. “I don’t like him, okay!”</p><p>“Do you hate him?” Lee asked.</p><p>“I don’t think so.” He chewed at his nail bed.</p><p>“So you like him as a friend?”</p><p>“I… yes.”</p><p>“You hesitated.” Lee raised her eyebrow.</p><p>“Shut up, stop trying to make this about me and Oswald when it’s clearly about you and Kristen!” Why was his heart beating so fast?</p><p>“Fine, Ed, tell me off for ruining Kristen’s life by letting her kiss me, I already <em>know</em> I hurt her.”</p><p>“You think <em>that’s</em> the moment you hurt her?” Ed laughed. “You hurt her when you told her that you shouldn’t see each other anymore. You made her think that she could never matter as much to you as… as…”</p><p>
  <em>Oswald’s face when he pushed him away – Like Ed had just taken away everything he wanted and shown him…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shown him that no matter how much he loved him, Ed would never feel the same.</em>
</p><p>“She could never matter as much to you as you do to her,” He finished quietly. “And that’s awful.” <em>Awful.</em> “Because it isn’t true.”</p><p>“No, it isn’t true.” Lee’s eyes were misty. “She really thinks that?”</p><p>Ed nodded. “Because you pushed her away before you two even had a chance.” He stared at the floor and the floor stared back. “How do I know if I’m in love, Lee?”</p><p>“I think sometimes it can take a while.” Her hand appeared on his shoulder, warm and comforting. “But love is the kind of thing that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. You just know.”</p><p>“I think… I think I see it. But it’s terrifying.” He shook his head. “I wish I could unsee it.”</p><p>“You’re telling me,” Lee huffed. “Everything seemed easier before that night. Although, pretending everything was okay with Jim was probably not the healthiest decision to have made.”</p><p>“I’ve always detested the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ but I’m beginning to see the merit!” Ed’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, what’s happening to me? I cannot believe I just said that.” </p><p>
  <em>You’re starting to sound like Mom.</em>
</p><p>“Ed, why not take your own advice?” she asked, her tone warm and placating, “Go talk to him.”</p><p>“I…” Ed shook his head, “No! This was supposed to be about you!”</p><p>“It still is. Trust me.” She sighed, “I’ll talk to Kristen. You were right, I didn’t really give it a chance, did I?”</p><p>“Not giving things a chance is fine too!” Ed insisted. “I feel no need to give anything a chance right now!”</p><p>“Just go talk to Cobblepot, Ed; your denial is making me feel hungover.” She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Besides, this world doesn’t need two hypocrites running around.”</p><p>“I am not in denial! I’m… well... ” He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His own reflection was staring back at him from the steel surface of the slab.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, Ed… What has two eyes but can’t see?</em>
</p><p>“I should leave.” He hurried to the door, “I… uh… left the stove on.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Two Words: You’re Mine.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was rattled. </p><p>
  <em>“Love is the kind of thing that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. You just know.”</em>
</p><p>He couldn’t think straight, the thoughts warping and distorting, slipping just out of reach. He’d nearly made it to his car before the winter chill had caught up to his body, and he’d noticed the gooseflesh covering his arms—he’d forgotten his coat in Lee’s office. Of course he did. Which meant he’d left his car keys as well. He considered turning back to fetch the coat, but the idea of facing Lee again, made his stomach coil into knots. He fished into a trouser pocket, touching a couple of crumpled bills. He’d take the subway home. Determined to make it home before the cold set in, he turned sharply to cut through Diamond Hill Park. </p><p>
  <em>“I wish I could unsee it.”</em>
</p><p>He saw the glowing lights of the street in the distance and picked up his pace. </p><p>
  <em>“Why not take your own advice? Go talk to him.”</em>
</p><p>The yellow glow of the streetlights and buildings should have felt warm and inviting, but he felt none of the anticipated heat as he turned onto the street, walking beneath the yellow lights. His hands were numb with cold and he shoved them into his armpits. </p><p>One of the bars along the street bustled with activity, and he briefly considered entering one just to warm up for a minute. He’d made it halfway to the door before remembering that his wallet, and subsequently his ID were still in his coat pocket. A sudden breeze blew through the street, and he decided to try for it anyway, if only to get a moment’s respite from the cold whilst arguing with the bouncer. He reached for the door, only for it to swing open in his face.</p><p>An apology was halfway out of his lips before a hand landed on his shoulder and his mind screeched to a halt. The man, clearly too drunk to stand on his own, careened sideways and nearly toppled him to the pavement.</p><p>Ed tried to shift the arm that was thrown over his shoulder, eyebrows shooting up at the familiar face attached to the offending limb. “Offic—Mr. Dougherty? Is that you?”</p><p>The man leaned closer to study Ed through alcohol-glazed eyes and Ed’s knees nearly buckled under the pressure Dougherty was putting in his shoulder. The whiskey on his breath turned Ed’s stomach. </p><p>“...Riddle Man?” Dougherty’s face lit up in an exaggerated smile. “Long time no see there, friend!” The arm looped around Ed’s neck to his other shoulder, pulling him into the former officer’s side. “How have you been? We should catch up.”</p><p>“I don’t think that—” Ed tried to extract himself from the overly-friendly grip, only to be pulled in tighter.</p><p>“Bullshit!” Dougherty countered, leading them both down the street despite Ed’s struggling. “Really how have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you in ages.” They turned the corner. “Not since—” The punch hit him squarely in the stomach and before he could register what had happened he was on the ground, doubled over. His glasses flew off his face on impact, crunching against the concrete somewhere to his side. He craned his neck to look up at Dougherty’s suddenly blurry outline. </p><p>“Not since you pulled that little stunt that got me fired,” Dougherty said, his friendly facade giving way to the anger and malice underneath. Dougherty’s boot caught him in the ribs, and Ed scrambled for his glasses. “Did you think I didn’t know it was you, you little shit?” </p><p>The boot came down again, this time on his face. </p><p>“That I wouldn’t figure out who planted fucking coke in my locker?”</p><p>Ed tasted blood.</p><p>“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize The Duke’s stash! I’m the one who busted him in the first place for selling it.”</p><p>Ed blindly crawled forward, trying to get as much distance as possible between them. </p><p>“Shame that the hit I put out on you was a waste of time,” Dougherty’s boot came down on his back, and he folded under the weight, “And you can imagine my surprise when I was told you had protection from the damn Penguin! Not that I mind, though. Now I get to kill you myself!”</p><p>Ed’s hand connected with something cold. He grabbed it and felt its sharp edge cutting into his palm. A broken bottle shard. Blindly, he swung. </p><p>Dougherty yelped as the improvised weapon found its mark. Dougherty collapsed to his knees next to Ed. </p><p>Ed struggled to right himself only to feel a pair of hands grab him by the throat. He struck out, the glass shard burying itself in Dougherty’s stomach. The hands around his throat slackened, and he struck again. And again. And again. And again. And again. </p><p>Blood rushed in his ears and drowned out the sound of the cold, unforgiving wind and the moans of the dying man at his feet. He gasped for air like he’d been drowning in an inky pool and had barely made it to the surface. He realized that he was trembling, violently. </p><p>He dropped the shard of glass onto the bloodied pavement, where it landed with a dull clink. He felt for Dougherty’s coat, wrapping it around himself. A dead man wouldn’t miss it anyway. He sat, shivering in the alleyway and would have stayed there, curled up and half-frozen for who knew how long, had the sound of merrymakers a street away not jolted him back into the present. </p><p>The reality of the situation came crashing down on him: he was alone, injured, no money, no car, and had just killed a man. Someone could turn that corner any second. </p><p>His hands scrambled along the pavement, searching for his lost glasses, wincing at the pain in his ribs. His head was swimming and he was likely suffering a mild concussion. If he were to run he wouldn’t make it far. Not to mention the fact that his blood was also at the crime scene. Even the dumbest of the forensic techs at the GCPD would be able to pin this on him. And, if what Dougherty had said was true, he had connections to the mob. Ed was fairly certain they wouldn’t be too happy about one of their own getting murdered in an alley. His hands closed over the broken frames and he gingerly set them atop his face.</p><p>There was only one person he could think of who might be able to help, but the idea of reaching out again after what had happened between them left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He fumbled through the pockets of Dougherty’s coat until his fingers closed around a phone. His numb fingers keyed in the number, and he pressed it to his ear. </p><p>“I need your help.”</p><p>—-</p><p>“Can I get you something to drink? Tea, maybe?” Oswald asked.</p><p>Ed was unresponsive. He’d hardly said a word since the phone call, just staring half-comatose into the distance. That was the state Oswald had found him in when he’d pulled up with his cleaning crew: curled up on the floor of an alleyway in a blood-soaked coat. It was clear that Oswald would have to take charge here. </p><p>He directed the cleaning crew to handle the corpse, then turned his attention to Ed. Coaxing the man into the car and later into taking a clean set of clothes was no easy feat in Ed’s dazed state, particularly without getting too close or touching him—a mistake he’d be sure not to make again. When Ed didn’t answer, Oswald decided to signal the lounge’s bartender to heat up some water anyway. Better to be proactive. </p><p>He turned back to Ed. </p><p>“Edward?”</p><p>No response. Ed had locked eyes with some unseen foe in the reflective surface of the table.</p><p>Oswald turned to the rest of the room, making a decision. “You know what? Everybody out!” </p><p>Once the room was clear, he approached Ed again, his voice softer. </p><p>“Gabe and his men took care of the body, there’s no need to worry about that. They won’t be finding him any time soon.”</p><p>Ed just stared, drawing his body closer in on itself, wiping at his nose. His sleeve came back bloody. </p><p>The instinct to <em>Do Something</em> had returned. </p><p>“Will you at least let me look at your nose?” he asked.</p><p>Ed looked up but otherwise stayed silent. </p><p>Right, proactive. </p><p>“Tilt your head back; let’s stop the bleeding.” Oswald moved closer, extracting the pocket square from his jacket. </p><p>“That doesn't actually stop the bleeding.” Ed’s voice sounded scratchy, halting Oswald in his tracks. “It’s a myth.”</p><p>“What should I do then? We should really get you checked out by a professional. I know a doctor who—”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Really, I don’t thi—”</p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>!” Ed pulled himself halfway out of the booth, staring Oswald down. </p><p>Oswald involuntarily took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture. </p><p>The standoff continued in silence, tension slowly mounting. When it became unbearable, Oswald decided to check on the tea. </p><p>He ducked through the doors to the kitchen to pour the boiling water into the mug. Eventually he would have to broach the subject of what happened to Ed. He cracked open the wallet that he had been keeping in a back pocket since Gabe had handed it to him in the alleyway earlier that evening. </p><p>He glanced at the ID inside: Tom Dougherty. Could he have been a mugger? Oswald dismissed the idea. He didn’t look the type, and if so, where were Ed’s personal effects? Was he attacked by a rival maybe, to send a message to Oswald? Oswald bit his lip, guilt creeping in as he wondered if this was partially his fault for calling off the protective tail in the wake of their disastrous dinner. This whole thing could’ve been avoided if Oswald hadn’t allowed his emotions to have clouded his judgement. He sighed, pocketing the wallet and turned back to the teacup, now steeped. Ed took his tea with exactly one sugar cube, he recalled.</p><p>Oswald nudged the door back open with a shoulder and ducked behind the bar to retrieve the sugar. He froze when he heard the sound of Ed’s muttering. </p><p>“Ed?” Oswald called out. “Did you need something?”</p><p>—-</p><p><em>Did you do something bad little Eddie? </em>“Little Eddie?”<em> Something bad?</em></p><p>“Something bad.” Something bad. Yes, bad things to bad “people, people,” something bad.</p><p><em>Hahaha, I see you! Can you </em>“see me?”</p><p>Glanced down at the benchtop shining black no colour. “I see–” you. Mirrored eyes, lies, spies, everyone dies, I see you! “I see you.”</p><p><em>Don’t I </em>“look–” <em>wonderful today? </em>So wonderful so wonderful. Wait, you’re scaring me, please stop, stop smiling, “Stop it!”</p><p>“Shan’t.” <em>Hahaha. It’s funny when I smile. They think you’re fine, but you’re not really fine, are you? Tell them you’re fine, little Eddie.</em></p><p>“I’m fine.” I’m fine, I’m fine, “I’m fine.”</p><p><em>Hahaha, priceless.</em> Too big a price. <em>LOOK AT ME WHEN </em>“I’M–”<em> TALKING TO YOU! </em>“Yes, sir.” <em>Hah, yes sir.</em> Yes sir, I’ll look at you. <em>Can you see me? </em>“Can you see me?”<em> You stupid little fucker, what did you do? </em>“What did you do?”</p><p>I did nothing, I swear I did nothing, it was me, it was you, I would never do anything, I swear I didn’t-</p><p>“It was you and you know it!”</p><p>Shut up, shut up, shut up! Shaking, shaking, I’m shaking now, shaking, quaking, faking innocence, taking, taking, “I’m taking,” taking, taking, I take you by night, by day take you back, none suffer to have me, but do from my lack. What am I? “What am I?” I take you– “I take you by night, by day take you back, none suffer to have me, but do from my lack. What am I?”</p><p><em>Shut up, you stupid fool– </em>“Stupid fool,” <em>you’re drawing a crowd,</em> What crowd, <em>Can’t you feel it?</em> A smile, fingers brushing his shoulder, skin pressed to his, sweaty, hot breath, <em>I’m right behind you. Can you hear me? Can you see me? I’m right behind you.</em></p><p>Shaking, turn around.</p><p>“Oh dear.”</p><p>Two words:</p><p>
  <em>You’re mine.</em>
</p><p>—-</p><p>Oswald sat there with the silver container full of sugar cubes and just… stared.</p><p>“Little Eddie… something bad...” Ed muttered to himself. His thoughts were disjointed and Oswald wasn’t certain if Ed even realized he was speaking aloud, “See me? I see… I <em>see</em> you!”</p><p>Oswald slowly made his way back to the booth where Ed was seated and placed the tea and sugar cubes in front of him. “Ed?” Oswald reached out to touch his shoulder.</p><p><em>“Stop it!” </em>Ed cried. </p><p>Oswald immediately pulled his hand back despite all of his instincts urging him to swallow the man up in his arms and help guide him through whatever <em>this</em> was.</p><p>Edward pulled at his hair. Suddenly, on a dime, his tone changed and his face split into an alarming grin, “Shan’t.” He spoke in a mocking tone. Almost as if in a voice not entirely his own.</p><p>“Ed, what’s going on?” Oswald furrowed his brows in worry.</p><p>“I’m fine… I’m fine…”</p><p>“You most certainly <em>aren’t</em> fine!” He should have called a doctor sooner. Perhaps Ed was suffering some sort of psychotic break brought on by the attack? What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? His men certainly couldn’t be trusted with him in such a delicate state, and Oswald was loathe to leave his friend’s side.</p><p>“I’M…” Ed yelped, as if in the middle of an argument. Oswald jumped at the sudden sound. Ed’s eyes were so dilated they more closely resembled glossy obsidian. Sharp and dangerous, but strangely beautiful.</p><p>“...Yes, sir.” Ed’s voice was small. He leaned in closer to the shiny surface of the table, “Can you see me?... What did you do?”</p><p>For someone who so eagerly dismembered a body in the middle of the dance floor, he was nigh incapable of coping with the act of murder itself. There was certainly a difference, Oswald had to admit. Watching the life drain from someone’s face was a far more intimate experience. One that Ed was clearly underprepared for.</p><p>He considered calling Jim, but the thought immediately disgusted him. Jim would be even less capable of dealing with the situation. If anything, he might misinterpret Ed’s mental break and have him locked up in a cell or worse… <em>Arkham</em>. No, Oswald couldn’t allow that.</p><p>Most of the color had drained from Edward’s face and his hands were trembling. Sweat beaded on his brow causing his hair to curl. Oswald might have thought it boyish or charming if the circumstances had been different. He shook the thought from his head and made his way back behind the bar.</p><p>It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for him to spend the night at the club. In fact, he did it often to avoid waking his mother in the middle of the night and being forced to listen to her absurd accusations about painted ladies. To that end, there was a blanket tucked away next to the shotgun on the bottom shelf. He unfolded the small blanket and gently draped it over the brunette’s shoulders. The least he could do at this point was ensure that the man was warm and safe.</p><p>“It was <em>you, </em>and you know it!” Edward yelled.</p><p>Oswald didn’t jump that time. Instead, he slid into the booth across from his friend.</p><p>“What am I?” Ed’s finger was pressed so firmly onto the table’s surface that it was bent at an odd angle and white knuckled.</p><p>“You’re my friend.” Oswald replied, “Perhaps you can’t hear me… but…” He took a moment to breathe. He was still too afraid to touch him despite the urge to massage the man’s lacerated fingers, but he was content to reach out with his words in the hopes that they might find him, “I’m not going anywhere, Edward. I’m here.”</p><p>“I take you by night, by day take you back, none suffer to have me, but do from my lack. What am I?”</p><p>“Sleep?” Oswald cocked his head to the side, “It has been a long evening.” Oswald remembered that Edward had been without his keys and his coat when he’d been found. “You can sleep here, if you wish. I’ll stay with you.”</p><p>“Stupid fool,” Ed growled. </p><p>Oswald had to stifle back an angry response and remind himself that Ed wasn’t necessarily speaking with him at the moment. “You’re not stupid, Ed.”</p><p>Edward’s breathing quickened as he shook his head from side to side. His eyes were barely open, as if he were falling asleep sitting up. His face contorted into one of fear. “Oh dear.”</p><p>“Ed?”</p><p>Edward clawed at the skin by his temples and cried. He curled in on himself and sunk further into the leather seats of the booth. </p><p>Worried that he might hurt himself, Oswald swallowed down his anxiety and reached out to pry Edward’s hands away from his face. He yelped when Edward grabbed his wrist.</p><p>“My apologies,” Oswald explained, pain shooting down his arm as Edward’s grip tightened.</p><p>Ed smiled. “Oswald.” The name escaped his lips like a purr.</p><p>When Edward didn’t release his grip, Oswald tugged. “Let me go.”</p><p>“No. I don’t think I will.” He repositioned their hands so that their fingers were laced together, “Not again, anyway.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the top of Oswald’s hand.</p><p>Oswald took a moment to study his friend. He was no longer trembling which was a good sign. And the tone of his voice was more even. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps the episode was over? His hand felt warm and, as if only just now noticing, Oswald looked down at their hands.</p><p>He slowly looked back up at his friend and was startled to meet those dark brown eyes. Crystal clear for the first time in a long time. He swallowed, “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Fantastic.” Ed smiled. His eyes sparkled, glimmering with a mischief Oswald couldn’t help but feel a kinship with.</p><p>“Um…” Oswald nodded. “Good. That’s good to hear.”</p><p>Ed threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Ozzie.” He shook his head, “You really are something.”</p><p>“Right. Thank you.” He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but he was hardly going to admit it.</p><p>“A real piece of work.” Ed laughed again before suddenly clamping a hand on Oswald’s shoulder. </p><p>He flinched instinctually. “What are you–”</p><p>“Isn’t it great to be alive, Ozzie?” Ed’s laughter was getting harsher and hasher. “To be <em>out</em> for once?”</p><p>Oswald cleared his throat. “Indeed.” Ed giggled. “Are you sure you’re okay after… everything?”</p><p>“You mean killing that excuse for a Homo sapien?” Ed frowned before a grin lit up his features. “Or do you mean after kissing me the other night.”</p><p>“Um…” Oswald pursed his lips, considering. “Both?”</p><p>“Oh, Ozzie.” As if mocking the moment shared with Jim not terribly long ago, Edward leaned in close and whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of Oswald’s ear, “I enjoyed it.” </p><p>Oswald tried not to shiver, instead pushing Ed lightly back with a firm palm against his shoulder, “Are we talking about the kiss or you stabbing that man in the alley?”</p><p>Edward threw his head back in laughter. He gleefully clasped his hands together as he peered down at Oswald opposite him in the booth. “I’ll let you decide that.” He winked.</p><p>“You’ll forgive me if I need you to be a <em>little</em> clearer with your intentions.” Oswald’s nostrils flared. “We certainly wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”</p><p>“In that case…” He leaned in even closer. “I did enjoy killing him. I wish I had done it sooner. Savored it a little.”</p><p>“I see.” Oswald nodded his head and tried to control the pounding in his chest. Ed’s face was unbearably close.</p><p>“Goes double for that kiss we shared.”</p><p>Oswald cleared his throat and pressed his back into the leather cushion of the booth. “The circumstances could have been better.”</p><p>“Agreed.” Ed continued to lean across the table.</p><p>“So… um… what now?” Oswald asked, his arms crossed defensively across his chest. Ed seemed to understand the body language and leaned back into his own chair, giving him some much needed space.</p><p>“Well… Ed is likely to wake up soon. I’m getting stronger but this,” he said as he gestured to himself, “takes a lot of work.”</p><p>“What are you–”</p><p>Edward gasped and leapt to his feet–nearly taking the entire table with him. He reached for his glasses and growled when he didn’t feel them on the bridge of his nose. He yelped when he pressed too hard in his search for them. “Ow!”</p><p>“Ed. Take a breath.” Oswald slid out of the booth and took a step towards his friend. His hands up where Ed could see them. “Everything is alright.”</p><p>“I… We…” Ed looked down at his reflection. His eyes widened and he pointed a finger at the surface. “<em>You!”</em></p><p>Oswald put himself between Ed and the offending reflection before he could spiral down into another breakdown. “That is enough of that!” Oswald took the blanket that he had used to cover Ed’s shoulders and draped it over the table. “Take a seat. I’ll get you some water and reheat your tea though it’s probably much too bitter by now.”</p><p>“That’s… kind of you.” Ed stared at the floor and slid back into the booth.</p><p>Oswald returned with a freshly made cup of peppermint tea and a tall glass of ice water. He allowed Ed to finish the water before choosing to speak. “Do you remember everything that just happened?”</p><p>Edward set the glass down and averted his eyes when he saw his reflection in the condensation, “...Yes.”</p><p>“Does this happen often?” Oswald asked</p><p>“No. Not like that.” Ed chewed on his lip. He breathed deeply. The faint smell of Oswald’s perfume filled the air around him. It was… nice. He exhaled. “It’s usually just voices.”</p><p>“I see.” Oswald nodded his head.</p><p>“You probably think I’m even more of a freak than before.”</p><p>“Not at all,” Oswald corrected, “but, I would like for you to be honest with me. When you’re ready. That way I know how best to help you should you ever need it.”</p><p>“That’s appreciated.” Ed couldn’t hide his yawn. “I’m exhausted.”</p><p>“There is a couch in my office.” Oswald stood and led the man to the small room in the back. Oswald hadn’t bothered redecorating since claiming it for his own. The decor still reeked of Fish Mooney, but the soft, velvet couch that smelled of lilacs was comforting all the same.</p><p>“Stay for as long as you like,” he told him. Just as he was about to walk away and leave Ed to rest, there was a light tug at his sleeve.</p><p>“Wait.” Ed barely spoke above a whisper</p><p>“Did you need something–” Oswald was cut off as Edward slumped forward into an awkward hug.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s really no trouble, Edward,” Oswald said, shyly returning the hug. We’re friends. I–”</p><p>“No… I…” Edward sighed. “I’m sorry for pushing you away.”</p><p>“Oh.” Oswald didn’t know what to say to that. </p><p>Edward pulled away from their embrace and placed a soft kiss on Oswald’s cheek. Light and warm, “Goodnight, Oswald.”</p><p>“G-goodnight, Ed.” Oswald blushed and then closed the door.</p><p>It was going to be a long night.</p><p>—-</p><p>Jim didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t entirely certain how long he’d been sitting in his car and staring at the illuminated umbrella outside the club. The interior lights were already out–save for one dim light further in. He could only assume Oswald was still inside doing some work. Hopefully nothing that would weigh on Jim’s conscience<em> too</em> heavily if he chose to ignore it…</p><p>He wondered if he could get away with not even going inside, but he caught a glimpse of Ed’s discarded coat in his passenger seat and sighed. His relationship with Lee was… well. It wasn’t worth another fight to turn down her demand to return it, even though he thought the man could survive without his coat for a single night.</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Jim grabbed the blindingly green coat and stepped out of the car towards the double doors of the club. To his surprise, the doors weren’t locked. It was a relief because at least that meant the Penguin wasn’t doing anything that required too much secrecy.</p><p>“Oswald?” He called out from the doorway. He really should have rung ahead.</p><p>He heard the click of a gun as he passed the bar. He slowly raised his hands. “It’s just me.”</p><p>“We’re closed.” Oswald’s tone was eerily neutral, as if he were assessing the situation.</p><p>“Is Ed here?”</p><p>“Why would he be here?” Oswald bristled. Something was definitely going on. “Did you check his apartment?”</p><p>“He wasn’t at his apartment. I also checked the library and the arcade. This is the only other place I thought he might be.” Jim looked around. Oswald looked like he had been nursing a few bottles of wine from behind the bar. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>“Just <em>swell</em>. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to atten–” Oswald stopped the moment he saw the green coat slung over Jim’s arm, “You can leave that here.”</p><p>“Does that mean Ed’s here?” Jim asked, an eyebrow raised, even as he laid it out on top of the bar.</p><p>“What does it matter to you?” Oswald snapped, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.</p><p>“He left work in a hurry and left his coat. Lee wanted to make sure it got back to him.”</p><p>“Is that all?” Oswald asked, the gun was aimed between Jim’s eyes. If he even so much as had a suspicion that Jim was there to arrest Ed, he wouldn’t hesitate. He would do that for Ed.</p><p>“He’s a friend. I’m just doing him a favor. That’s all.” Jim made a face. He still wasn’t certain what was going on.</p><p>“That man has suffered your false friendship long enough.”</p><p>“What are you talking about–”</p><p>Jim was cut off by Oswald’s abrupt laughter. The Penguin angrily tongued at his cheek before turning his attention back to his empty glass and the rather expensive bottle of Malbec.</p><p>“Care for a drink?” Oswald asked. “Since you seem so determined to burden me with your presence after hours.”</p><p>“Think I’ll pass.” Jim finally put his hands down now that there was no longer a gun aimed in his direction. He sat down on the barstool and waited for Oswald to finish savoring the taste of the wine. </p><p>He smacked his lips. “Tell me,” Oswald said, locking eyes with him, “what do you know about Edward Nygma?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean…” he began and angrily inhaled through his nose, “Do you actually <em>know</em> him?”</p><p>“We’re colleagues. He’s odd sometimes, but he’s great at what he does. Give him any puzzle, and he can solve it.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And… he’s my friend?” Jim answered, not entirely sure if that was the right answer.</p><p>“You see, <em>that…”</em> he pointed an accusatory finger at Jim, “...is where you are wrong. You were never his friend. None of you were. You treated him like some kind of lost child who needed his hand held. You and the GCPD are undeserving of his brilliance.”</p><p>“And what? You think he’d be better off with you?” Jim snarled.</p><p>“And what if he is?” Oswald snarled back. “While you and his other so-called friends were toying with his emotions, I was there to offer him something real.”</p><p>Jim bit back his anger. Oswald had a point, but, “That was all Lee and Kristen’s idea.”</p><p>“There you go, blaming other people for your mess again!” Oswald gave him a knowing smirk. He shook his head. “Are you really <em>that</em> incapable of admitting when you are wrong?”</p><p>“I was just trying to help out.”</p><p>“Were you?” Oswald leaned across the bar, a nasty smile on his face. “Or were you just using it as an excuse to get closer to me without repercussions?”</p><p>Jim swallowed. A denial was ready on his lips but it never came.</p><p>“Don’t be so transparent, Jim.” Oswald smiled over the rim of his wine glass.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jim’s throat felt tight.</p><p>“Please, Jim. Must we?” He gestured to the empty bar. “No one else is here. Don’t you think it’s time we ended this little dance of ours?”</p><p>Jim didn’t know what to say at first. He looked around the dimly lit bar and sighed. “I think I’ll take that drink.”</p><p>Oswald was already retrieving Jim’s poison of choice and a glass. The whiskey smelled of honey and poor life choices. After several moments of silence of them enjoying their respective drinks, Jim finally spoke. “Lee and I split up.”</p><p>Oswald looked up at him as he poured the last of the wine into his glass and topped off Jim’s whiskey tumbler. “Shame.”</p><p>“Is that all you have to say?” Jim couldn’t help but feel hurt at that.</p><p>“Would you rather I offer you my condolences?” He scoffed. “I don’t know what you expect from me.”</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t know either,” Jim admitted. He looked up at Oswald again and allowed himself to admire the man’s features. The lights illuminating the bar accentuated the flattering sharpness of his angles. His blond lashes set his eyes aglow with each blink. Jim looked down at his reflection swimming in the amber liquid. “I take it things with you and Ed are good?”</p><p>Oswald blushed. It was a good look on him.</p><p>“He’s asleep in my office,” Oswald finally admitted. “And I have my doubts that he will be in tomorrow.”</p><p>“Is he alright?”</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m…” he paused and his eyes danced around as he searched for the word, “worried.”</p><p>“Lee said he was pretty out of it when he left.” He looked over at the coat on the bar next to him. It wasn’t like Ed to forget things. “Any idea what happened?”</p><p>“He’s in pretty rough shape. I’m taking him to see a doctor in the morning. Provided he doesn’t protest.”</p><p>“Doctor?” Jim squawked. “What the hell happened? You didn’t–”</p><p>Oswald raised a hand to silence him. “I assure you, none of this was my fault.”</p><p>It was only a small lie. Truthfully, ever since he saw how badly Ed had been beaten in that alley, he felt guilty. If he had just kept Raff on his tail, none of this would have happened in the first place. But pettiness had overridden his judgement.</p><p>“How bad is it?” Jim ran a hand down his face. From the onset, the last thing he wanted from their game was for Ed to get seriously hurt.</p><p>“Possibly a broken nose. Bruised ribs... He didn’t exactly let me get too close.” Oswald grumbled that last part.</p><p>“Oh.” Jim tried not to be rude by gulping down the top-shelf whiskey. “I take it that means you two are on the outs?”</p><p>“We were never together, Jim.” He sighed, his conversation with Edward earlier that evening still weighed heavily on him. “So can we move on? I’d rather not think about it.”</p><p>“Right…” Jim swallowed the last of the whiskey and with it the last of his dignity. “Oswald, I–”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“What?” Jim blinked.</p><p>“I know what you’re going to say. And <em>No.”</em></p><p>“Will you at least hear me out?” Wasn’t this what Oswald wanted? Jim tried not to sound like he was begging. But he wasn’t certain if he was successful or not based on the look on Penguin’s face.</p><p>“And why should I do that?” The smaller man chuckled. “What will it change? You’ll still treat me the same way you have since the day I came back to Gotham. Face it, Jim. It would never work.”</p><p>“You don’t know that,” Jim mumbled. He should have just kept his mouth shut. He never should have accepted the drink. He should have just left the jacket and gone home. Well… back to Harvey’s, anyway.</p><p>“If you had swallowed your pride and prompted this conversation weeks ago, things would have been much different,” Oswald admitted. “But… I’ve done quite a bit of thinking.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jim risked asking. He wasn’t sure if the tightness in his chest was from embarrassment or heartbreak.</p><p>“You and I…” Oswald looked at him. His eyes swirling in the dim light. “We are like two sides of the same coin. And we are both precisely where we are meant to be.”</p><p>“Can’t say that I disagree.”</p><p>“If we were… well…” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “We would both spend the rest of our unnecessarily cruel relationship trying to force the other to be something they’re not.”</p><p>“Isn’t that what you’re doing with Ed?” Jim countered. “Ed’s as innocent as they come. You really think he’ll want to be with you when you’re the person that you are?”</p><p>“That is for him to decide. But, one thing is for certain,” Oswald said, straightening his posture, “I see him. Unlike you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Ed’s About as Suspicious as a Toothpick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lee stood, staring at the Record Annex door, feet cemented in place.</p><p>God, it was only fair. She should speak to her. Really talk. Oh, but every bone in her body was screaming for her to run away. But she couldn’t. No, she <em>refused</em> to be that person. She wanted to be the type of person who faced the things that terrified her. She couldn’t run away.</p><p>Lee knocked on the door.</p><p>“Come in!” Damn, she’d missed Kristen’s voice. She walked through the door. “Lee! I, uh—” Kristen was clutching a file to her chest, her glasses halfway down her nose, “Please come in!”</p><p>“Thank you.” She closed the door behind her. “Umm…” She didn’t really think this far ahead, damn. Still, Kristen was here, watching her, ready. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard. “How… um, how are you?” A deflect, yes, but a place to start the conversation, at least.</p><p>“I’m…” Kristen looked at her shoes. “I’m okay.”</p><p>Silence hung in the room.</p><p>She <em>had</em> to say something. “Um, Kristen, I—”</p><p>“I forgive you!” Kristen blurted out.</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>“I forgive you for… for the thing you said.” She stepped closer. “You told me to think about why what you did hurt me and then to forgive you, and I’ve done it!” She smiled a sad smile, eyes glassy. “Can we please go back to at least being friends again?”</p><p>“Kristen…”</p><p>“Okay, I know, I still don’t believe you did anything wrong, but… <em>please,</em>” She shook her head, “I can’t do this.”</p><p>“You’d really go back to being friends again?” Lee frowned. “Do you even want that?”</p><p>“Does it matter?” Kristen sighed. “I just want <em>something</em>. I can’t stand this weirdness between us.”</p><p>“Why are you so willing to sacrifice what you want for just a crumb?” Lee asked, stepping towards her to take her hand. “Kristen, I promise you, just… ask for what you want.”</p><p>“You.” Ksiten sighed, her grip on her hand tightening. “I want a chance to be with you.” She sniffed. “And, like, two private jet planes and a yacht.”</p><p>Lee laughed. “Me? I just… how do you know?”</p><p>“With you, I am me,” Kristen said simply. “And I get the feeling it’s the same for you.”</p><p>Lee couldn’t help it: She smiled.</p><p>“And for the record, I want the <em>real</em> you,” Kristen said. “Not the glossy version designed to make people like you. The real you is <em>far</em> better.”</p><p>Lee laughed. “You’re a funny one, Kristen Kringle.”</p><p>“True,” she shrugged. “But Lee, tell me; what do you want?”</p><p>“To make you happy,” she answered. It was the truth.</p><p>“Your happiness is just as important, Lee. You shouldn’t enter into this if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“To be honest, I do want to,” Lee sighed. “It just frightens me to pieces.”</p><p>Kristen giggled. “I feel that.”</p><p>“You just… you make me feel like it’s okay to not be perfect. And it’s so comforting and nice that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Lee looked at their joint hands. “But it’s a nice kind of danger. And I really am willing to give this a try.”</p><p>“Really?” Kristen was grinning already, bright eyes dizzyingly happy behind her glasses. “I don’t want to push you!”</p><p>“Okay, just so you know, you’re like the least pushy person I know,” She snorted. “And yes. I really want to be with you.”</p><p>“Oh my god!” She exclaimed. “Oh my god!”</p><p>Lee laughed. “Just kiss me again, will you?”</p><p>“With pleasure, m’lady.” Kristen leant up and Lee leant down as they pressed their lips together. <em>God</em>, how had she forgotten how good this felt? They sank into each other, Kristen’s hands sliding to her shoulders, whilst Lee gripped her waist.</p><p>“God,” Kristen sighed, pulling away and tucking her face against Lee’s collar bone. “You’re so perfectly imperfect, you know?”</p><p>Lee laughed. “I kinda like the sound of that.” And it was gravity that pulled them together as they kissed again and again and <em>again.</em></p><p>——</p><p>Ed woke to a sharp pain running up his arms and through his pectorals. It seemed every move was painful; he tried to get up, but his feet began to ache the second they touched the floor.</p><p>He realised he was wearing shoes. He inhaled sharply, glancing around—for a moment, he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the fact he was in his apartment, alone; then it struck him that he was supposed to be at Oswald’s.</p><p>He didn’t remember coming here.</p><p>He pulled in another breath and pushed down on his eyes under his glasses (Glasses? He’d worn glasses to bed?), then tried to make sense of his surroundings. Maybe he’d been dead tired last night, and simply needed a moment to remember exactly what had happened. Maybe he’d had a drink too much at the bar, not that he remembered drinking anything at all; it wasn’t coming back.</p><p>He looked down at himself. Fully-clothed, though his coat was by the door, hanging neatly from one of the hooks. He gulped and stood, ignoring the pain once more reverberating through his arms and chest.</p><p>Every morning for the past several days, he’d woken up at Oswald’s, had breakfast with Oswald, and gone to work. In the direct sense, not much had changed, except he was no longer spending as much time alone; surrounded by people at work, kept company by Oswald in the evenings.</p><p>He had enjoyed it, but the growing tension building behind his eyes had become difficult to ignore—and now it was gone completely.</p><p>His shoes, though hardly dirty, had traces of fresh dirt or mud on the tips. He took them off and inspected them carefully, then traced his steps back in a straight line to the door. In his growing panic, his first instinct quickly surfaced as the need to call Oswald.</p><p>Two beeps.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Oswald? Was I at your club yesterday?”</p><p>“Where else would you have been?” Oswald sounded baffled, but didn’t give him a chance to answer, “Where are you right now? I assumed you had gone to work early, but I was going to call—”</p><p>“Oswald,” he stepped into his shoes and hurriedly pulled on the coat, “I didn’t go home?”</p><p>“No—no, you were here,” he insisted, “Don’t you remember?”</p><p>Ed exhaled sharply. “I’m missing time.” He moved the phone to his other ear as he locked the door behind him, distantly aware of his stomach growling.</p><p>“Okay,” Oswald let out a breath, “Well, come to the club and we will figure it out together. Do you want me to send a car?”</p><p>“I’ll be alright.”</p><p>He stumbled on the stairs and caught himself on the handrail. Then, he stopped.</p><p>There was blood, right there, on the stairs. Three drops, one per step, all varying in size – perfectly round with ragged edges, indicating they’d fallen from a considerable height, and not long ago.</p><p>“Ed?” Oswald’s voice cut through the mist clouding his thoughts. His head was spinning.</p><p>“I…” he swallowed and tightened his grip on the handrail until his knuckles whitened, “I need to look around.”</p><p>“Ed, you should come to the club,” Oswald repeated, slightly tense, “Or at least tell me where you are, so I can help.”</p><p>“I’m at my apartment,” he rushed back up the stairs, wiping the cold sweat seeping out onto his temples, “I woke up here. There’s some—something wrong. I’ll call you back.”</p><p>With quivering fingers, he put the phone back in his pocket, suddenly deeply regretting having called in the first place. He had to get rid of the blood, but that wasn’t urgent; nobody ever came up here, and besides, some part of his mind needed Oswald to see it. Confirm it was there. Confirm he wasn’t going crazy.</p><p>He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, looking about his apartment with a new kind of dread. It seemed a little less his, now, than it was five minutes ago; with his heart pounding hard enough to shake his vision, he kept seeing movement that wasn’t there, shapes that… unsettled him. He needed to calm down.</p><p>He had done something. Unclear what, but he had done something, and it was… the other one’s fault. <em>He </em>was being suspiciously quiet, for that matter.</p><p>His hands. There wasn’t blood on them, but when he turned one over, he discovered a crimson stain on the underside of his cuff. He quickly removed it and headed to the bathroom to toss it in the washing machine, only to find traces of blood all over the sink. Oh, <em>god. </em>He glanced up at the mirror.</p><p>His reflection smiled and winked.</p><p>“F—” he slapped a hand over his mouth and staggered backwards, and the Ed in the mirror did the same, matching his movements exactly. He moved his shoulder; the reflection did the same in tandem. Nothing strange about it.</p><p>Hating himself, <em>hating himself, </em>he took a towel and draped it over the mirror. Then, he took a deep breath.</p><p>His apartment, spare for the blood, was pristine. He spent far too much time checking every place he could think of for <em>anything </em>to go on, sometimes twice; sometimes three times. Every time he did something, he couldn’t be sure he did do it, or just thought about doing it—and if only there was someone here to tell him—</p><p>The doorbell rang. Ed wiped his hands down his face and went to let Oswald in.</p><p>“You look awful,” was the first thing he said to Ed, eyes big with worry. The two men with him stayed outside as he closed the door.</p><p>“You didn’t have to come,” Ed rubbed his sleeve over his upper lip, “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Ed, it’s not only that,” Oswald closed his eyes and gently wrapped a hand over his elbow, as if to steady him, “Something has… thrown a wrench in our plans. I need you to stay calm.”</p><p>Ed swallowed his heart. “What is it?”</p><p>Oswald’s jaw clenched as he led him further into the apartment. Ed allowed himself to be hauled along, partly because it was Oswald, and partly because the surrender was oddly comforting. Having Oswald here, in itself, was already making him breathe easier.</p><p>“The body is gone.”</p><p>There went that.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It disappeared from the freezer,” Oswald’s voice was low, his eyes sharp with barely concealed annoyance, “Along with a substantial sum of money from my office. But don’t worry, we will get it back.”</p><p>“Do you—do you know who took it?” he asked, matching his whisper.</p><p>“Well,” Oswald licked his lips, “No.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you get rid of it sooner?” Ed cried quietly, “It’s been days!”</p><p>“Do you think it’s easy to dispose of a body? I don’t have the equipment on hand—”</p><p>“There’s a butcher a street down from your club.”</p><p>“Oh, Edward, disgusting. Either way, if you hadn’t killed him in the first place—”</p><p>“Oswald,” he placed his hands on his shoulders and squeezed, “How would I know there’s a butcher there?”</p><p>Oswald pulled a face. “I don’t know. You <em>are </em>the type to remember that sort of trivial information.”</p><p>“No,” Ed let go of him, “We need to go there. Right now. I don’t know what’s happening,” he raised his hands to cup his own cheeks, “But I think I… I think I did something… to the body.”</p><p>He heard a heavy sigh behind him, but he was already opening the door, pushing between the two huge bodyguards waiting there. Oswald hobbled out after him, catching up on the stairs.</p><p>“Ed,” he said, quite patiently, “This is insane.”</p><p>He stopped and whipped around, almost knocking their noses together.</p><p>“Oswald, please, just trust me,” he linked his hands in front of him, “Please.”</p><p>A moment passed, both of them frozen face to face on the stairs. Then, Oswald’s eyes softened.</p><p>“Of course,” he gestured for him to lead the way.</p><p>Oswald had naturally gotten here in a limo, which was waiting for them downstairs. Without any more arguing, they drove down to the butchery, windows running with rain.</p><p>It was suddenly very quiet, but a different quiet from the apartment. Oswald was facing him, their knees almost interlocked; his fingers were tapping absently on the handle of his umbrella, eyes carefully studying Ed. The two gorillas were in the front, separate from them.</p><p>“Who was he to you?” Oswald asked, “The man you killed. You knew him, didn’t you?”</p><p>Ed didn’t answer. He looked out the window again, desperately hoping Oswald would show more of that entirely undeserved compassion he had for Ed, and drop it.</p><p>“Another time,” Oswald agreed. Ed nodded.</p><p>The car pulled over and came to a halt. It was well into the morning now, and Ed realised he was supposed to be at work. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He considered calling Captain Essen’s office, but a different thought occurred to him. He dialed the number.</p><p>“Kristen!” Edward hastily whispered into the phone.</p><p>“Good morning, Ed.” Kristen’s voice sounded metallic over the phone, “You were supposed to be in an hour ago. Did you oversleep?”</p><p>“I need you to cover for me.”</p><p>“Cover for you?” she asked, confused.</p><p>“I need you to come up with an excuse for me. I-I won’t be in today.”</p><p>There was a long pause before Kristen responded, “Is everything alright? Are you in some sort of trouble?’</p><p>“I… don’t know yet.” He sighed, “But I trust you. And Lee. Please.”</p><p>“How exactly am I supposed to cover for you? What am I supposed to say?”</p><p>“You’re clever, Kristen. I know you’ll think of something.”</p><p>“...Alright. But you owe me.”</p><p>He ended the call just before they reached the butcher shop. A short, sturdy woman with short-cropped hair poked up from behind the counter, her gaze about as dead as the slab of meat she’d just put on a hook behind her.</p><p>“We’re closed for cleanin’. Oh, it’s you again,” she said helpfully as soon as she saw Ed. She looked like she was about to say something else, but Oswald emerged from behind him like a shadow, and her mouth clamped shut.</p><p>Ed cleared his throat.</p><p>“I was here… yes.”</p><p>She furrowed her brow. “You want a refund or somethin’? ‘Cause you’re not gettin’ one.”</p><p>Ed closed his eyes. “Remind me what I bought?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with you? Hell, why am I askin’?” she shook her head, wiping off her knife, “You wanted the place for the night. With what you paid, I don’t care why. Though I can guess.”</p><p>Oswald brushed past him to approach her, a fake smile steadily blooming on his face.</p><p>“How did he pay you?”</p><p>“Cash.” She looked Ed up and down. “Yeah, I was surprised too. No offence, but you don’t look like someone who carries that kind of money.”</p><p>Oswald turned to him sharply. “You <em>stole </em>from me?”</p><p>Ed felt suddenly nauseous. The tension was palpable; he could tell that the two bodyguards were standing a little straighter than before, their faces a little more forcefully blank. He gulped.</p><p>“Oswald,” he whispered, glancing at their audience, “I would never do something like that. <em>I </em>would never…”</p><p>Oswald opened his mouth, closed it, as if what he’d said had only just reached him. He quickly put a hand on Ed’s arm; smiled. “You know what? It’s no matter. Gentlemen,” he gestured at the woman, “Get my money back.”</p><p>His hand slid down to Ed’s wrist as he moved towards the door.</p><p>“No, wait,” the woman glanced between them, “You come in here, ruin my goddamn wall, and now you’re gonna—okay,” she raised both hands as one of the men stepped just a bit too close, “Okay, fine, but—”</p><p>Ed grasped his hand to stop him. “What did you say about your wall?”</p><p>“It’s fuckin’ ruined, is what it is,” she spat, then glanced up at the man again, eyes wide.</p><p>Ed and Oswald exchanged a look. A moment later, they were invading further into the shop, and behind a door labelled ‘Meat Processing’. The room, Ed quickly realised, was nothing short of a slaughterhouse.</p><p>The largest meat saw in the centre of the room was coated in blood. Oswald raised his eyebrows.</p><p>On the wall behind it, in pretty red letters, someone had written the words ‘<em>OFF HIS HEAD</em>’ followed by a large, curling question mark. The handwriting was familiar.</p><p>“What’s—” Oswald pointed to it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Ed inhaled slowly, feeling a steady build of something like confidence, but more electric, running up his spine. He felt Oswald’s hand settling between his shoulder blades, and it was only then that he realized he was shaking.</p><p>“Ed,” Oswald said, voice full of worry. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Ed staggered to the nearest counter, head bowed. His breathing came out ragged as his mind raced. He caught sight of his reflection in the steel counter, and it smirked back at him before fading into the fluorescent lights.</p><p>“Ed,” Oswald said again to his back. “You’re worrying me.”</p><p>Ed grinned, spinning around to look at Oswald and laughed. It felt freeing, felt invigorating. “It’s a game!” he said, grabbing Oswald by the shoulders to spin them in a little dance. “A riddle, don’t you see? A riddle!”</p><p>—-</p><p>This was beginning to sound like a scavenger hunt.</p><p>Oswald, for all the warmth he felt towards Ed, was getting seriously worried. The fact Ed was acting like a sighthound who’d caught sight of a squirrel (that squirrel, of course, being the dead body of a man he stabbed multiple times in the torso) did not do much to reassure him. Not to mention the idea that Ed, or Ed’s alter ego, had stolen a body and substantial amount of funds from Oswald without Ed’s apparent knowledge.</p><p>“So, where to next?” Oswald pulled in a steadying breath and smoothed down the lapel of his coat.</p><p>“I need to retrace my steps,” Ed said, almost to himself. He lifted his hands, “I need to…”</p><p>Oswald squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying not to let his annoyance show. “I need a drink.”</p><p>He felt a light touch on his shoulder; when he glanced up, Ed was staring at him, his eyes wide and lips parted.</p><p>“That’s exactly it,” he raised his other hand and emphatically closed it into a fist. “You’re a genius, Oswald.”</p><p>He grabbed Oswald by the arm and tugged him back into the limo. It was only Oswald’s friendship for the man that allowed him to be tugged along, his men following warily.</p><p>“To 106 Main,” Ed said as he crawled into the limo.</p><p>The driver gave Oswald a look, questioning.</p><p>Oswald sighed but nodded, waving at the man to follow Ed’s direction. “Not that I’m not enjoying whatever thrilling epiphany you just received, but would you like to share with the rest of the class, Edward?” Oswald asked, tapping his fingers along the head of his umbrella handle impatiently.</p><p>“Off his head!” Ed said, still grinning.</p><p>Oswald tried not to get distracted at how handsome it looked like this, his sharp row of shining white teeth and the way his eyes lit up. There was a spot of blood just below his ear that Oswald wanted to reach over to wipe away.</p><p>Instead, he sighed and gave Ed a look of exasperation. “Yes, Edward. I can read, so please explain whatever fantastic leap of logic you made.”</p><p>“A drink!” Ed said in a rush, almost as though he wasn’t listening. “Off his head can be interpreted as slang for being drunk or in any similar state of impairment. I met Officer Dougherty outside of a bar when he was drunk, AKA <em>off his head</em>.”</p><p>Oswald felt that he needed to be <em>off his head</em> to deal with this man sometimes. “Let me get this straight? You, at some point in the evening, stole the body of your murder victim just to send yourself on a scavenger hunt for him? For what reason?”</p><p>The grin he got in return was ecstatic, manic, with the edge of darkness in his eyes not unlike what he had seen in Ed that first night at the club, still covered in a man’s blood. “For <em>fun</em>, of course!”</p><p>Before Oswald could find an appropriate answer to that statement, the limousine pulled to a stop. “We’re here, sir,” his driver said.</p><p>Ed jumped out of the car before the driver could open the door, Oswald trailing after him at a slower pace. “Keep the engine running,” he instructed the man before motioning to his two bodyguards. “You two, with us.”</p><p>The bar in question was closed, but that had never stopped him before. And apparently, it wasn’t stopping Ed. He was already bent over the lock, working it open with a set of lockpicks that Oswald wasn’t surprised to see him have. It only took a minute before he heard the soft click of the lock, and Ed was pulling the door open.</p><p>Oswald grabbed him by the back of the shirt before the man could finish the movement. The man squeaked indignantly, stumbling at the sudden pull. Oswald rolled his eyes. “You really need to learn how to exercise some caution, my friend,” he said, motioning to one of his guards. “You first.”</p><p>The hulking man nodded, ducking inside the door with his gun ready.</p><p>Ed pouted at being stopped, but Oswald ignored him. It only took his guard a few minutes before he returned to the door. “All clear, boss,” he said, holding the door open for them.</p><p>Ed bolted through the entry like a dog off his leash, and Oswald sighed, wondering if this was going to be something he would need to get used to.</p><p>The bar looked like every other dive bar in Gotham City—cramped and grubby, worn vinyl booths lining the walls with a worn pool table in one corner. Oswald could easily picture how the place would look at night—the dim lighting and excess of cigarette smoke hiding the worst of the stains on the walls and flooring.</p><p>Ed was already searching the place for whatever clue that his other self might have left, and Oswald was never more reminded of the fact that Ed was a forensic pathologist than now. It was his very job, what he spent years training for, and it was never more evident as the man seemed to find every speck of something that might be out of place.</p><p>“Head, head, head,” the man was whispering to himself as his eyes darted around.</p><p>Oswald expected him to drop to his knees at any moment to search the floor more carefully if he didn’t stop him. “Anything we can assist you with, my friend?” he asked, trying not to touch anything. The bar top was filthy, remnants of liquor still not cleaned off the black surface and making it shine in the full light. He wrinkled his nose—he would never have let something like that happen at his own club.</p><p>“Any references to a head, or heads, or…” Ed was saying, not looking up from where he was searching through a box of what looked to be abandoned articles of clothing that was behind the bar. He was inspecting a small pile of baseball caps and other assorted hats with an intensity that Oswald saw few men have.</p><p>Oswald looked around, scanning the walls in a haphazard attempt to help. “How about that?” he said, interrupting Ed’s muttering as he pointed to a bottle on the top shelf with the end of his umbrella. It was in the shape of a skull, half-full of a clear liquor.</p><p>“What?” Ed said, not looking up from where he was now sorting through a small stack of credit cards, no doubt leftover from those who had been too inebriated to close their tab.</p><p>“Crystal Head Vodka,” Oswald said, limping forward to tap a nail against the glass, tilting his head to examine the bottle. It had an almost iridescent sheen to it, and it felt a little out of place to have a low-end dive such as this.</p><p>Ed’s head shot up. “What?” he said, hurrying to Oswald’s side, all of his attention now on the little bottle. He reached out to grab it and then stopped, hands hovering over the glass. He looked around, grabbing a clean rag and using it to lift the bottle into the better light. “There is something inside.”</p><p>Oswald peered closer at the glass, and Ed was right. There was what looked to be a scrap of paper inside, small and folded and sunk to the bottom. He spied a few scribbles of green ink on the soggy note.</p><p>“But why would I…” Ed said, raising the bottle above his head as he tried to examine the folded paper better. He gave a huff of annoyance. “I can’t read it with the way it’s folded.”</p><p>“Then take it out,” Oswald suggested, confused on why Ed hadn’t considered the obvious solution.</p><p>But Ed shook his head. “Most inks are alcohol soluble. Ink chromatography is used to separate ink into its different components, often with an alcohol solvent. Like vodka.” Ed frowned, squinting at the offending note from the bottom of the bottle. “The only reason that there is anything left on that paper is likely due to lack of agitation, but if we try to remove it from the alcohol base, it’s very likely that the entire message will disappear. But I would know that so why would I…” Ed trailed off.</p><p>Oswald tapped the end of his umbrella against the floor, considering. “Are you sure that it’s full of vodka?” he asked.</p><p>Ed cocked a head as he returned his attention back to Oswald. “Why wouldn’t it be?”</p><p>Oswald shrugged. “Some bars keep all of their liquor stock under the bar. This,” he said as he gestured to the wall of bottles, “is sometimes only for show: colored water and a few pretty lights.” Not that Oswald had known that for the longest time to his great embarrassment.</p><p>Ed nodded, slow, before carefully working the stopper out. He leaned down to sniff the opening, eyes lighting up. “You’re right. It’s water,” he said, tone incredulous as he gave Oswald a look that was a cross between awe and something he couldn’t identify.</p><p>Oswald forced down a blush. “You learn a few things running a club,” he said, not meeting Ed’s eyes. He couldn’t—because when Ed looked at him like that, it made Oswald feel… different. It made the butterflies in his stomach give a flutter, made him feel light-hearted. It was the look that made Oswald want to lean in for a kiss and that had allowed the man to steal a part of himself that Oswald had spent years pretending he didn’t want. He cleared his throat. “So, are you going to stand there or fish that thing out?” he asked, breaking the moment.</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Ed said, pulling back—when he had gotten so close? Ed looked around, looking for something to help with the extraction.</p><p>Oswald handed him a long thin pair of tongs that would likely fit through the opening. He watched as Ed plucked the paper out from the bottle and patted it dry with a few paper napkins.</p><p>“Like the bunny hops, I have hopps too. You can find me in Prussia, Chile, and Peru. What am I?” Ed read out loud.</p><p>“What does it mean?” Oswald asked, turning the words over in his head. He disliked riddles—he tolerated them for Ed’s sake, but he often was more frustrated by them than amused.</p><p>Ed bit his lip as he thought, rubbing the edges of the water-logged paper between his fingers. The silence stretched, Oswald trying not to fidget as he allowed Ed to work around whatever puzzle. Oswald jumped when Ed snapped his fingers, the man almost jumping up with his eyes bright.</p><p>“What do Darwin, Poe, and South America all have in common?” He smiled mischievously, not quite ready to reveal the answer.</p><p>Oswald sighed, his patience wearing thin, “I don’t know, Ed. What do they have in common?”</p><p>“Humboldt! The answer is <em>Humboldt</em> Brewery!” he said. Ed ran to the door, only pausing long enough to grab Oswald’s hand to pull him along.</p><p>Oswald stumbled, the unfamiliar weight and warmth against his hand sending his heart racing. He swallowed hard as he struggled to keep up with Ed, their hands still clasped. Ed didn’t let go until they were climbing back into the limo.</p><p>Ed gave the directions to the driver as Oswald straightened his tie, flexing his hand. He could almost still feel the heat of the other man’s hand in his. “Care to explain again?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level and nonchalant.</p><p>“Alexander von Humboldt.” Ed punctuated the name with his hands as if he were conducting, “Born in Berlin in 1769. He was a prolific scientist and explorer during his time whose work inspired future generations of the world’s greatest thinkers. Charles Darwin was notably inspired by his work. Likewise, so was Edgar Allen Poe who dedicated one of his poems to Humboldt.”</p><p>Oswald couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he listened to Ed’s chatter, the reel of facts rolling off his tongue. “And, of course, the Humboldt penguin is native to South America. Specifically Chile and Peru.”</p><p>“That they are.” Ed blushed and shyly averted his eyes to the floorboard. The coincidence remained unstated but not unnoticed by the both of them.</p><p>“You never cease to amaze me, my friend,” he said, and he knew he was saying too much, putting too much out there for Ed to read in him. But he felt a little reckless, thinking about the way Ed had held his hand for a few short minutes. And it wasn’t as though his affection for the man was a secret anymore, and, if Oswald was to believe what Ed had told him the other night, perhaps his feelings were not as unreciprocated as he’d thought.</p><p>The look he got in return from Ed was as soft and shy as perhaps his own. Had they been alone, Oswald might have risked leaning closer and brushing Ed’s hair out of his eyes or twining their fingers together, but now he felt hyper-aware of the presence of his two bodyguards.</p><p>The drive to the small brewing company in the East End was almost blissfully short. Unlike the bar, however, it was still open with employees wandering about and a small handful of customers partaking in some early day drinking at the bar. Long glass windows gave a peak into a series of large copper vats, a few employees covered in safety gear slipping in between the tanks to record various readings.</p><p>Ed ignored all of it, beelining past the bar to the set of double doors.</p><p>“Sir, you can’t—” the hostess said, starting to step in-between him only for him to dodge around her with a shocking bout of speed.</p><p>Oswald hobbled after him, becoming used to this by now, even as he waved at one of his guards who put a large, muscled arm between the woman and the door.</p><p>Ed was stopped in the center of the plant, garnering a few odd looks but no one else tried to stop them.</p><p>The large industrial space was filled with even larger vats than the ones on display, each of them a shining copper with a multitude of pipes attached. There were steps on either side, leading up to two seperate landings that allowed workers to look over the top of the vats. The hum of equipment was a constant noise in the background, making Oswald huff in annoyance.</p><p>“Now what?” he asked Ed, who was spinning on the spot, eyes roving over the multitude of equipment and machinery. “Any ideas?”</p><p>“This,” Ed said, slow, as though gathering his thoughts. “This is familiar.” He bit his lip, doing another circle as he murmured the lines of the clue back to himself. Something must have occurred to him because his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh dear,” he said, darting off to the steps. “Oh dear, oh dear.”</p><p>Oswald trailed after him, cursing his slow pace all the while. It was only as he got closer, forced to slow down on the steps, that he noticed the telltale trail of blood that Ed had been following. By the time he finally caught up to Ed, the man was turning a large wheel atop one of the vats. Oswald was starting to see what Ed might be thinking. “You didn’t,” he said flatly.</p><p>Ed gave him a hopeless look. “I think I did,” he said, the wheel coming to a squeaky stop and allowing Ed to pry open the hatch. A strong, almost overwhelming sour scent filled the air, making Oswald wrinkle his nose.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Ed said finally as he looked into the open hatch.</p><p>Oswald leaned closer to take a look, already knowing what to expect. The corpse was already starting to bloat, the faint scent of decay mixing in with the natural odor of the fermenting beer. “Huh.” He didn’t know what else to say.</p><p>“You don’t get any shipments from here, do you?” Ed asked, not looking away from the floating body in the malted mixture, a disgusted look on his face as the smell continued to waft past them.</p><p>“Not anymore, it seems.” Oswald huffed. Some of his customers were partial to the local beer, but it seemed wise <em>not</em> to distribute it to for a while. He leaned in to get a closer look, “Ed… where is his head?”</p><p>“What?” Ed leaned in further still, shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend. The mixture churned and revealed that the body was, in fact, quite headless. “Oh my.”</p><p>Oswald left the unpleasant mess that was fishing the body from the vat to his henchmen and the cleanup crew. The promise of a substantial amount of money and a few well-placed threats made it easy to buy the silence of the staff and brewmaster. The staff continued about their business while Oswald’s men worked on cleaning up the last of Ed’s fugue state.</p><p>Oswald instructed his guards to take a different vehicle so that he could have some well-earned privacy with his friend. He desperately wanted to get to the bottom of this before Edward felt the need to drag him around town again.</p><p>“There has to be a detail I’ve missed.” Edward chewed at his nail beds. The man was practically vibrating.</p><p>“We can retrace your steps after you’ve had some time to rest.” Oswald suggested, trying not to wince at the pain in his leg, “You’ve been going non-stop since you woke up at your apartment.”</p><p>“But I haven’t solved the riddle yet!” Ed pouted.</p><p>“You said it yourself, Ed. We looked everywhere. If you’ve left yourself another clue, it isn’t here.”</p><p>“But it doesn’t make any sense!” Ed growled, “What purpose does removing his head serve?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Oswald threw his hands up in surrender, “Perhaps if you told me more about your relationship to him, we could figure something out.”</p><p>Edward buried his face in his hands. He mumbled something unintelligible and groaned.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“I said I planted cocaine in his locker,” Ed blurted out. Silence followed. They locked eyes for a moment as Oswald slowly came to the understanding that Edward wasn’t making a joke.</p><p>“What compelled you to do<em> that?”</em> Oswald stifled a laugh. The man himself was just as complex a riddle as the one they were trying to solve.</p><p>Edward spent the remainder of the ride back to the club talking about the deceased ex-officer. How Ed had suffered his bullying at the precinct and how Ed had found Miss Kringle bruised and crying in the recond’s annex.</p><p>“From the sound of it, you did this city a favor by killing him,” Oswald said.</p><p>“Perhaps.” Edward leaned up against the window. It cooled his forehead and grounded him.</p><p>There was still a piece of the puzzle missing and he was having a hard time keeping his brain from buzzing. It was possible that the removal of Tom Dougherty’s head was merely another reference to the riddle they’d found at the butcher’s. But that seemed unlikely. Oswald had suggested that perhaps it was a way to disguise the identity of the corpse, but no other precautions had been taken. The body still had fingerprints, hair follicles, and other easily determined means of body identification. All of which would incriminate him if someone could place him at the scene of the crime that night in the alley. So, there had to be something else...</p><p>His gaze trailed off from the road to the man seated across from him. Guilt washed over him as he saw how fatigued his friend looked. Edward had pulled him from his work and dragged him around on this deranged scavenger hunt. He’d been nothing but a burden since the day they’d met and that fact was beginning to weigh heavily on him.</p><p>Oswald’s attire wasn’t casual, by any means. But it was certainly more dressed down than the usual armor he wore when the club was open. The tie was a brocade of navy and aubergine. It complimented his eyes. He was wearing the same cufflinks that Edward had said were his favorite a few days prior. Elegant green opals set in a vibrant yellow gold. Each detail coalesced into a picture that Edward wished he could savor forever. Lucky for him, he had an excellent memory.</p><p>Edward was still locked in a struggle with his own mind and conscience. In helping Kristen and Lee sort through their own lapse in communication, Edward had come to realize his own missteps with Oswald. And, more importantly, how much he wanted to set things right between them. But he had no idea where to even begin.</p><p>“We’re here.” Oswald gestured to the glowing umbrella outside the club.</p><p>He led Edward back through the doors with a determined stride. He still had to prepare his club for that evening and check in with the cleanup crew at the brewery and–</p><p>“Helloooo.” Victor Zsasz waved to them from the bar. The <em>Zsaszettes,</em> as they were lovingly called in his case file, responded to the Penguin and Ed’s arrival with the barrel of a pistol and a sawed-off shotgun. Edward immediately threw up his hands at the sight of them. Having recalled the sound of bullets and chaos inside the bullpen one day when they came to collect Jim Gordon that one time.</p><p>“Don Falcone says he needs to speak with you.” Zsasz looked the Penguin up and down, biting his lip flirtatiously. It made Ed’s blood boil with an irrational emotion he couldn’t quite place.</p><p>“Of course.” Oswald gave a polite smile and then turned toward Edward, “Stay here. I should be back later this evening and we can continue our…”</p><p>“Date?” Ed raised an eyebrow as he tried to supply them with a believable answer. One that wasn’t <em>entirely</em> untrue.</p><p>“Yes… that.” Oswald blushed.</p><p>“Sorry, Penguin.” Zsasz set an empty bottle of peach schnapps onto the counter, “The beanstalk is coming along for the ride too.”</p><p>“You must be mistaken. Edward isn’t–”</p><p>“Don’t make this difficult.” Zsasz shook his head, “The Don’s not happy. I’d hate to give him more bad news.”</p><p>Oswald rolled his eyes, “I’m <em>well aware</em> that business hasn’t been what it used to be. But, I can assure you that this is only a minor setback.”</p><p>“Oh, Falcone isn’t worried about the club. Not yet, anyway.” Zsasz took a few menacing steps closer, “This is something else.”</p><p>“Something else?” Oswald blinked in confusion. He looked over at Edward who suddenly went pale. <em>Shit.</em></p><p>“So, are you going to play nice or do me and my girls have to drag you out of here in pieces?” Zsasz looked down his nose at him and then nodded his head towards Ed, “Starting with your boyfriend, of course.”</p><p>“That won’t be necessary.” Oswald glared up at the assassin. His body now turned at an angle that firmly positioned him between them and Edward.</p><p>They were escorted to a different vehicle. The back of the van was gutted and fully armored. It was more a tank than a car. All sleek, black, and chrome– much like the bald man’s attire. No one spoke the entirety of the drive to the Falcone mansion, save for Victor Zsasz singing along to the Bee Gees and Abba from the driver’s seat.</p><p>The two Zsaszettes kept their guns trained on Ed and Oswald in the back of the van. They were each instructed to stay a minimum of two feet apart on the bench. Regret pooled in the bottom of their stomachs at the realization that, if they were going to die today, neither of them had mustered up the courage to actually talk about what had happened between them before that point. The small glimmer of hope that they would both make it out in one piece was all the motivation Oswald needed to get them through this. But his inability to comfort his trembling friend made him angrier and angrier the further they drove outside of Gotham.</p><p>—-</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, but you owe me.” The line went dead.</p><p>“Talking to someone?” Kristen looked up to see Lee waltzing into the room, a carefree smile on her face. God, she looked gorgeous in purple. And the new eyeliner really suited her.</p><p>“Ed,” She answered her. “He wants me to cover for him.”</p><p>“Cover for him how?” Lee looped her arms around her waist and it was indulgent and easy like chocolate fondue.</p><p>“He needs an excuse why he’s not at work,” She answered, nuzzling Lee’s neck. She kinda liked having a tall girlfriend. She kinda liked having a girlfriend in general.</p><p>“Can’t he come up with one himself?” Lee’s hand was in her hair. She’d started to wear it loose nowadays. It felt lighter like this.</p><p>“You’d think he could.” She hummed. “Honestly, I think he’s in some kind of trouble.”</p><p>“What kind of trouble?”</p><p>“He didn’t say,” she sighed. “But it’s Ed, so…”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Lee pulled back and placed a kiss on her forehead and it was brave and sweet and mesmerizing, “We’re helping him. No question.”</p><p>Kristen smiled, automatic. “Thank you for understanding.”</p><p>—-</p><p>The interior of Falcone Manor was about how Edward had imagined. Lavish topiary and granite sculptures, Italian artistry proudly on display in every corner of the elaborate home. Oswald and Ed were led to two different chairs across from one another. It seemed they were going to be forced to experience whatever this was without the comfort of the other. Or, at the very least, they were going to be positioned in such a way that they would have to watch the other undergo whatever horrible fate awaited them if their suspicions were proven correct.</p><p>The room was unbearably pastel. The white suede couches they were sitting on would stain easily. Edward couldn’t help but ponder the visual of their brains splattered across the dark wood and expensive fabrics. Zsasz, by contrast, walked in wearing dark leather and carried a burlap sack that smelled like something sweet and rotten. He stood next to the imposing figure seated at the center of the room.</p><p>“It is a pleasure, as always, to see you Don Falcone.” Oswald spoke with as much politeness as he could.</p><p>“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?” The Don wasted no time</p><p>Oswald’s face contorted as he tried to keep his expression friendly, “I confess… I am unsure what this meeting is all about.” His eyes darted over to Edward who was eyeing the bag in the assassin’s hands.</p><p>One cue, Victor walked over to the small table between all of them. The head of Tom Dougherty made an unpleasant squelching sound as he plopped it down onto the wooden surface. Victor stared at it for a moment, as if assessing his art, and then repositioned the head so that it was directly facing Ed. He smiled when Ed gasped. He repositioned himself behind Oswald’s chair and draped his hand over his shoulders. Oswald bristled at the touch and the sight of it nearly made Ed jump from his chair and strangle the assassin.</p><p>“Did you know that Officer Dougherty was on my payroll?”</p><p>“Forgive me, I don’t even know who that is.”</p><p>“Tom was working for me and helping sabotage the drug ring run by Arnold Flass,” Falcone explained, “Who is, of course, under Maroni’s patronage.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“So, you can understand my concern when he goes missing and then his head is delivered to my doorstep.” Falcone’s voice remained neutral. It was difficult for anyone to properly discern his emotions as he spoke. Which was to be expected. This was a man who grew up in the mob. He’d spent his entire life perfecting his approach.</p><p>“That is concerning, Yes.” Oswald agreed. He tried keeping his eyes locked on the Don so as not to incriminate Ed in any way. Of course, Edward had other plans.</p><p>“But Arnold Flass no longer works at the precinct,” Ed interjected</p><p>“Ed, don’t–”</p><p>Falcone held up a hand, silencing him immediately, “Continue.”</p><p>“Jim Gordon busted him and his men for the murder of a witness who was brought into the precinct. But, he was too well connected and managed to avoid sentencing. I assume that was Maroni’s doing?”</p><p>“Most, likely. Yes.” Falcone leaned back, a bemused expression on his face.</p><p>“And, I take it that sending the head of one of your employees is a bad thing?” He chuckled, “I mean, why wouldn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s a declaration of war.” Zsasz told them, “One that would mean bad news for Penguin here.”</p><p>“Yes. Because, as I understand, you two came to an agreement and that is why Maroni hasn’t come for Oswald. Correct?” Ed turned his attention back to the Don. His fist clenched in frustration at the sight of Victor Zsasz still touching Oswald’s shoulders.</p><p>“You sure know a lot,” Zsasz commented, brows raised.</p><p>“I work at the GCPD.” Ed explained, “Forensics. I’ve worked these cases.”</p><p>“Is that all?” Falcone questioned him.</p><p>“Ed is my confidant.” Oswald interjected, “Nothing more. He’s not involved.”</p><p>“You sure about that?” Zsasz took two long strides over to Ed’s side of the room. Gun drawn and barrel pressed firmly against his temple, “Tell him.” Zsasz demanded.</p><p>“W-what?” Edward shook, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Tell him that it was you who brought the package.” Zsasz growled.</p><p>“I didn’t! T-there must be some mistake.” Edward scrambled to come up with a lie, “I wouldn’t!”</p><p>“One of the guards saw him break onto the property to deliver the package,” Falcone explained to Oswald, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Oswald…” Ed breathed, his eyes pleading, “Please.”</p><p>“W-w-wait!” Oswald flailed, “Ed and I have barely left each other's sides. I would have known if he was going to betray me! When was the package delivered?”</p><p>“Around four this morning.”</p><p>“See!” Oswald exclaimed, “That proves it! Ed was with me that <em>whole time.”</em> Oswald emphasized that last part as he looked at Ed.</p><p>“Yes! I was with Oswald! At his club. We were… um…” Edward stammered, trying to think on his feet. He was going to have to improve his improv skills if he was going to find himself in more situations like these. Luckily, the assassin came to his own conclusion.</p><p>“Well, hot damn!” Victor removed the gun from Ed’s head, “Hey, It’s about time. I’m happy for you.” he winked in Oswald’s direction</p><p>Oswald rolled his eyes, “Maroni and his men have seen Ed at the club. He must have found someone who looked the part and had him deliver the package so that Ed would be blamed. This is <em>clearly</em> an attempt to disrespect your agreement and hurt me.”</p><p>There was a shift in Falcone’s eyes then. A darkness that made them sparkle. He stood and stared at the head still sitting on the table in front of them, “Victor will provide extra security at your club.”</p><p>“Extra security, Sir?” Oswald asked, his eyes widening at the idea of having Victor Zsasz frequent his club more often. He would have to stock up on more sweet liqueurs.</p><p>“When this war starts again, you’ll be at the top of his list. But I need you right where you are. And <em>you…”</em> he turned to Edward, “We’ll be in touch.”</p><p>—-</p><p>“What were you doing in Captain Essen’s office?”</p><p>“Jesus, Jim,” Lee clutched her chest. “You fucking scared me.”</p><p>Jim frowned, probably at the curse. “Are you going to answer the question?”</p><p>Lee sighed, crossing her arms. “I was just telling her that Ed’s out. Not really much of a mystery.”</p><p>“Ed’s out?” Jim raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Yeah. He is.” She looked around at the officers going about their work. “What’s this about, Jim?”</p><p>“Ed hasn’t been acting kind of suspicious to you?”</p><p>“Ed?” She laughed. “Ed’s about as suspicious as a toothpick.”</p><p>“Well, you would say that.”</p><p>Lee inhaled through her nose closing and unclosing her fist. “Why is that?”</p><p>“You’re his friend. You protect him.” Jim laughed. “You even set him up with Penguin.”</p><p>Lee pursed her lips. “From how Ed’s been talking lately, it seems he and Oswald are well suited. I won’t begrudge them their happiness just because Oswald’s from the wrong side of the tracks.”</p><p>“Wrong side of the tracks? He’s a full-blown criminal!” Jim scoffed.</p><p>“He’s a person, Jim,” She sighed. “Why do you have to be so black and white all the time?”</p><p>“Because Oswald’s a bad influence.”</p><p>“You speaking from experience?” She asked. Jim looked away. “That’s what I thought.”</p><p>“Look, I have my reasons.”</p><p>“Of course you do.” She turned, making her way down the stairs.</p><p>“I’m serious, Lee.” Jim caught her arm. “Tom Dougherty’s been missing for a few days.”</p><p>She shook her head and continued forward. “He doesn’t even work here anymore.”</p><p>“Yes, but he still hangs out with some of the officers,” Jim explained, still following behind her. “But they said he hasn’t been showing up at the bar the last couple nights.”</p><p>“Maybe he’s gone sober.” She turned down the hallway.</p><p>“The last night they saw him was the day I took Ed’s coat to Oswald’s. They were both acting weird. Oswald wouldn’t let me see him, said Ed had been a fight.”</p><p>Lee sighed, finally coming to a stop, “What day was this?”</p><p>“Tuesday.”</p><p>“Oh, Jim,” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, things were weird between them that night.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Jim, Ed and I were talking. He was beginning to realize how he felt for the man.” She shrugged. “Obviously he went and talked to him about it.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “Obviously. That explains everything.”</p><p>God, he could be an asshole. “Look, Jim, where has Ed been sleeping the past few nights.”</p><p>Jim looked visibly disturbed. “...Penguin’s.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought.” Even if it <em>wasn’t</em> true, she doubted anything would’ve happened. But if something did? “You know what Jim, you’re right, Ed might’ve done something to drive Tom out of town. But do you know why he did it?” Jim shook his head. “Because he’s kind, and a good friend to Kristen. That’s no criminal offense. That’s just Ed being Ed.”</p><p>Jim frowned. “You kind of love him, don’t you?”</p><p>Lee shrugged. “He’s the little brother I never had.”</p><p>Jim nodded. They stood there, fidgeting awkwardly. “Sorry about…” Jim cleared his throat, “Sorry.”</p><p>“No problem,” she sighed. “Just… Jim. Give me and Kristen some space, alright. And for god’s sake, <em>chill</em>. You’re kinda being paranoid.”</p><p>“Right, ‘course.” He nodded as she turned to walk away. “Paranoid.”</p><p>—-</p><p>Don Falcone was kind enough to provide a limo and a far less hostile driver back to the club. The sun was already beginning to set and the club was due to be open in a few hours. Oswald was determined to keep their evening on schedule so as not to raise further suspicion from the GCPD. It wouldn’t do them any good if Ed mysteriously didn’t show up for work and Oswald closed his doors for the evening. They would have to play their game more cautiously.</p><p>Ed was practically dragging his feet when he reached the bar. He buried his face in his arms and debated breaking down into sobs from the exhaustion.</p><p>“I think I’ll finally take that drink.” He laughed.</p><p>Oswald made his way around the bar. He’d respected Ed’s choice not to accept any drinks he was offered, but he had thought of a few cocktails that he might enjoy should he ever change his mind. He pulled the stainless steel shaker out from under the counter and poured in an ounce of Creme de Cacao and Creme de Menthe along with a healthy amount of heavy cream. How anyone could stand cream or milk mixed with their alcohol, Oswald would never know, but he was sure that Ed would enjoy it. He garnished the glass with a fresh sprig of mint and added a black and white paper straw.</p><p>“What is it?” Ed asked, face clearly dubious when Oswald set the drink before him.</p><p>“A Grasshopper.”</p><p>Ed tentatively sipped the mixture, and Oswald smiled the moment his eyes lit up.</p><p>“This tastes like a mint milkshake.”</p><p>“I thought you might like it. Go on. Your drinks are on the house, as per usual.”</p><p>Oswald went back to work tidying up the bar. He would have to leave most of his other work for another day since his employees would be coming in soon to prepare for their evening. He’d missed the call from the jazz band that had booked the stage, and he would have to reschedule, but that could be easily handled. Besides, Ed had made a point to play the piano during his downtime at the club and was beloved by the customers who had heard him play.</p><p>“Play something?”</p><p>Ed started from where he had been sipping his drink. “What do you want me to play?”</p><p>“Your pick,” he promised. “It’s just… You’re a good player.”</p><p>Ed nodded, standing to walk to the stage. Oswald followed, forcing his sore feet to push forward.</p><p>“Do you know how to play?” Ed asked, sitting at the piano. A small cheer erupted from the sparse audience that had begun filling out as the evening wore on.</p><p>“Not much, I’m afraid.” Oswald sat next to him, the bench not quite large enough for two grown men. Their thighs brushed.</p><p>“Okay, well, if you put your thumb and your forefinger there…” Ed guided his hand, pressing his fingers onto the keys. “And put your right hand here…” He stretched across, into Oswald’s space, his shoulder beneath his nose. “Then you can play that chord interchangeably.”</p><p>“Okay.” Something was different between them. Oswald felt it in his heart and his cheeks</p><p>They played.</p><p>It was something in the way Ed was smiling or the contact of their shoulders brushing. Or the feeling in his gut.</p><p>“You’re doing well, Oswald!” Ed exclaimed. With him. With him, he was doing well.</p><p>---</p><p>“How do you manage to make something as simple as roast asparagus taste so good?” Kristen hummed, licking the flavour from the corner of her lips.</p><p>“I was hoping you’d like it.” Lee laughed. God, she was beautiful. “How are you feeling after today?”</p><p>“Okay I guess.” She shrugged. “Talking to Essen wasn’t easy.”</p><p>“You talked to Essen?” Lee’s hand suddenly covered her own. “I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>“Thank you.” She took a deep breath, smoothing back her hair and adjusting her glasses. “She said there was money set aside for this sort of thing, so the counselling would be free of charge.”</p><p>“I know it’ll be difficult, but you won’t be alone,” Lee told her. “Ed and I will be here for you. And if Ed’s here for you, then Oswald probably is too.”</p><p>Kristen laughed. “If they ever get their heads out of their asses.” Those two goofballs.</p><p>“They need to take a page out of our book,” Lee agreed. “Although I heard that Ed’s been sleeping over at the club these last few weeks.”</p><p>“Oooh, interesting.” Kristen fluttered her eyelashes. “Maybe we should take a page out of <em>their</em> book.”</p><p>Lee laughed, her foot finding Kristen’s under the table and giving it a poke. Kristen smiled, biting her lower lip. Technically, they were going slow, trying to get used to their new dynamic, but in the past few days, she’d found her mind wandering off with the possibilities of Lee’s soft skin and aching touch.</p><p>She quickly crossed her legs, shaking her head. <em>Bad, Kristen.</em></p><p>
  <em>Bad, bad, Kristen.</em>
</p><p>“You’re blushing, hun,” Lee giggled, sipping her wine.</p><p>“I have a fair complexion, I blush easily.” She grabbed her glass too, swallowing a mouthful.</p><p>“It’s cute.” Lee tilted her head. “Heard from Ed again?”</p><p>“Nah, just that weird phone call. I’m hoping he’ll actually explain himself for once, and tell me about it in the morning.”</p><p>Lee snorted. “Oh, Ed.”</p><p>“Agreed.” She clinked their glasses. “At least all the hijinks are worth it.”</p><p>Lee grinned. “I kinda like hijinks.”</p><p>“Same,” she gushed. “Makes me feel… I don’t know.”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t get it either, but I feel it too.” Lee hummed. “You know, Jim once said I was the echo to your query.”</p><p>Kristen laughed. “What does that mean?”</p><p>“I have no idea,” Lee replied. “So, fair Query, want to <em>actually</em> watch Heathers tonight?”</p><p>“Murders on TV? My goodness, darling Echo, sounds amazing!” Kristen laughed. They stood and she took Lee’s hand. Things felt right with her. Better. Everything was okay.</p><p>—-</p><p>“Oswald.” They were sitting at the bar again, the patrons all washed down the drain. “Oswald.”</p><p>“Yes, Ed?” he asked. The man’s eyes were slightly glassy behind his spectacles.</p><p>“Oswald.” His ears turned red suddenly, and he found it difficult to maintain eye contact.</p><p>”Yes, Ed?” he repeated, shaking his head at him with a smile.</p><p>“I’d like to… um…” he adjusted his glasses, “Conduct an experiment.”</p><p>“Okay?” he raised an eyebrow, “What’s your experiment?”</p><p>Ed cleared his throat, “I’ve been giving all of this some thought. And I’ve come to the conclusion that… I… we… erm… oh dear-”</p><p>“Spit it out, Ed.”</p><p>“May I kiss you?” he blurted out.</p><p>Oswald practically choked on the air that he inhaled. “Why would you want to do that?”</p><p>“I think that both of us would agree that the one we shared in my apartment doesn’t exactly count. And I would like to test a theory.”</p><p>“A… theory?” Oswald wasn’t sure he was liking the sound of this as much as he had hoped.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And that theory is?” Oswald asked</p><p>Ed opened his mouth and then immediately closed it. He exhaled. “Can I kiss you or not?”</p><p>Oswald huffed at having his question dismissed. But that annoyance was quickly overtaken by nervousness and anticipation as his eyes bounced back and forth between Ed’s brown eyes and his lips, “I don’t know, <em>can</em> you?”</p><p>Oswald leaned forward, their lips barely brushing together to assure his friend that he did have permission to carry out his experiment.</p><p>Edward became all too aware of his hands. Where was he supposed to put them? Did he hold his shoulders? His face? What angle was best? He felt his face flush as he slowly closed the remaining distance and pressed their lips together. It was soft. Probably too soft. It ended as quickly as it began, and Edward was already reeling backwards.</p><p>“Was your experiment satisfactory?” Oswald blushed, absentmindedly licking his lips. Ed tasted like mint.</p><p>“No. I mean– I have to do it again!” he declared.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“In order to adequately test a hypothesis, you have to conduct an experiment more than once.”</p><p>“Ah. I see.” Oswald chuckled. This man was adorable.</p><p>“So, may I do it again?” Edward bounced in his chair. Like an over-eager puppy.</p><p>“You may.”</p><p>Edward leaned in much more confidently this time. He still didn’t know where to put his hands, but they quickly made their way to Oswald’s waist, then up his arms, and finally to his face. Oswald nipped at his bottom lip and, when Edward gasped, Oswald took the opportunity to swipe his tongue across his teeth. The sensation sent a spark up Edward’s spine.</p><p>“Oh my,” he whispered, breaking away.</p><p>“More?”</p><p>He nodded. “More.” They kissed again, Ed parting his lips immediately to encourage that violent tongue back inside. The ground was rumbling below as he hooked his fingers in Oswald’s waistcoat. He suddenly had the urgent need to feel the other man’s heart beat and started to push at his jacket and waistcoat.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Oswald asked, breaking away.</p><p>“Take them off,” Ed demanded.</p><p>Eyebrows shooting up, he complied. Ed immediately tugged him forward, fitting his ear against his chest. “Your heart rate is elevated.”</p><p>“Yeah, not that surprised about that.” Oswald’s hand was in his hair, distracting.</p><p>“Why is it elevated?” Ed asked, pulling back to face him. “Because we kissed?”</p><p>“Yes, Ed,, because we kissed.” Oswald nodded, huffing a breath.</p><p>“And your pupils are dilated,” He noted. “A sign of fear or attraction?”</p><p>“Umm,” Oswald shifted uncomfortably. “Attraction. But… but you know that.”</p><p>“And my pupils?” Ed asked, clutching him closer. “Are they dilated?”</p><p>“You mean… are they big?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, are they big?” He rushed out.</p><p>“Ed… they are.” Oswald was looking at him strangely. “Wh-what was this experiment about, exactly?”</p><p>“I know I like you, Oswald,” he stated. “I think you’re fascinating. I’ve thought so since the moment I first saw you. But <em>attraction</em>. Attraction is not friendship, it’s something else.” He swallowed. “I believe I’m attracted to you, Oswald.” The man’s eyes widened. “Scientifically speaking, I mean. With the dilated pupils and the fact that I can, um–” He broke off, blushing as he made an almost unconscious glance down.</p><p>Oswald glanced down too. “Umm… okay?”</p><p>“And I’ve been speaking to Lee and Kristen recently. Did you know they are attracted to one another?” Ed didn’t bother to wait for a response. “Rather coincidental that I am friends with both of them. Anyway, one of them said something rather interesting. They said that love can take some time to see, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”</p><p>“What are you trying to say, Ed?” Oswald’s skin was rather pale.</p><p>“Scientifically speaking, love is a chemical produced in the synapses, but it does exist, therefore, it is possible,” he said.</p><p>“Ed, please.” he growled. He could be rather threatening sometimes.</p><p>“I have also read that contented love takes between six and eighteen months to achieve. We have not known each other that long.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So, I believe I could love you,” he finally concluded. “If you’d like to be patient and wait for it to happen with me.”</p><p>Oswald blinked. Then blinked again. “Ed… what are you saying?”</p><p>“I’m asking to be your boyfriend,” he said. “After today, I think it makes sense.”</p><p>“What, pray tell, about today made you think that?” Oswald gasped.</p><p>“You were very good with all those puzzles. It was very impressive. I was quite aroused.”</p><p>Oswald shook his head but he smiled so he must’ve been happy. “I don’t think six months will be long enough to get used to you.”</p><p>Ed pursed his lips. “Is that a yes?”</p><p>Oswald laughed. “Definitely.”</p><p>“Okay.” Ed nodded. “You can go back to kissing me now.”</p><p>“Fucking brilliant.” Their lips connected once more, and it was certainly very fascinating.</p><p>Ed doubted he’d get used to it either.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Almost at the end! Next chapter will be an epilogue &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. It’s So Good to Have Someone to be So Bad With</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is it, folks: The epilogue, the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who's read our little masterpiece. We had such a good time collating, coming up with ideas, giggling with each other over voice chat. It's been one wild ride. Thanks to my collab writers, you're all amazing! And thanks to you reader! Have a fantastic day &lt;3 -Zebra</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How are the onions looking?” Lee called, barely turning her head to direct the question to the kitchen.</p><p>“Perfectly caramelized!”</p><p>“Good.” Lee smiled. “You’re becoming quite the under chef.”</p><p>“As long as I get to lie under you, chef!” Kristen called.</p><p>She laughed, finishing with the knives and forks. There was a knock at the door. “I’ll get that.” She went and opened it up. “Oswald, Ed, you’re here right on time.” She grinned.</p><p>“I wanted to come early, he wanted to come late,” Ed said. “So we compromised.”</p><p>“I’m glad.” She laughed, stepping back. “Please come in.” The two men shuffled in. “You can put your coats there.” She raised her eyebrows as Oswald removed his coat to reveal a holstered pistol tucked by his hip. “Umm…”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Dr. Thompkins, it’s merely for safety. I’m sure you’re aware of the gang war down below.”</p><p>“Yes, but I’m just wondering why that’s all you have,” she told him. “I thought you’d have more.”</p><p>“I left the shotgun in the car,” he explained. “Oh, and…” He twisted the top of his cane to reveal a dagger. “It was a gift.”</p><p>“I’m glad you like it.” Ed smiled. </p><p>Lee took a moment to admire the way the two looked at each other. They were certainly getting along well. “Well, I’m glad you’re taking a break to have dinner with your friends. We’ve been meaning to catch up with you two.” She winked. “Now: come, sit.”</p><p>She led them to the table, smirking as Oswald pulled a chair out for his boyfriend. She turned to give them a moment, leaning over the kitchen bench. “How's it going in there, Kristen?”</p><p>“Honestly, I really have no idea.” She laughed, shrugging.</p><p>Lee shook her head. “Hang on.” She walked around, scooting in beside her. “You’re doing well! Look at those mushrooms! Perfectly brown.”</p><p>“Okay, good,” She sighed. God, she was so cute when she was nervous. “Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t exploded into a fireball.”</p><p>“Mmm, me too,” Lee hummed, laughing when Kristen grabbed the tea towel and chucked it at her head. She didn’t even care that it messed up her hair.</p><p>Dinner was amazing. Kristen had no need to be worried. Everything tasted divine. The conversation was easy, as they chatted with each other.</p><p>“And then Zsasz started dancing a jig! Tall, bald assassin dancing a jig!” Oswald laughed. “And he was good at it.”</p><p>“Yes, he was!” Ed agreed. “He could’ve given lessons.”</p><p>“Honestly, having him hanging around the club isn’t that bad, is it Ed?” He shrugged.</p><p>“He makes very good cocktails,” Ed nodded. “And he lets me play with his guns.”</p><p>“Supervised playing,” Oswald amended.</p><p>Lee snorted. “Ed and his love of weapons. He’s always so eager to get his hand on a scalpel.”</p><p>“The scalpel is an instrument that has been used and developed over thousands of years,” Ed said. “Of course I am interested in it.”</p><p>“Of course!” Kristen giggled. She was already tipsy, the lightweight. “Although, I’ve always been curious what it might feel like to hold a gun. My mother never let me touch the one we had in the basement.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s <em>great,</em> Kristen,” Ed exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “You have to try it!”</p><p>Lee laughed, shaking her head. “You two are such children.”</p><p>Kristen poked her tongue out, her glasses slipping down her nose to make her eyes bigger. Lee laughed again, booping her cute nose.</p><p>“Speaking of guns,” Oswald quickly reclaimed their attention, leaning forward. “I have a proposal for you two.”</p><p>Lee smiled. “What kind of proposal?”</p><p>Oswald cocked his head. “Call it an invitation to adventure.” He and Edward smiled. “We have a job. A little hijinks if you will.”</p><p>“Hijinks?” She turned to Kristen. “We’re in.”</p><p>—-</p><p>“Holy shit, I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Kristen exclaimed. “Query and Echo, at it again!” Her head was spinning, her heart racing with adrenaline.</p><p>“Quickly, quickly before they see us!” Lee urged, a giggle on her breath.</p><p>“By the way,” she paused with two wires in her hands. “You look hot in a mask.” She placed the wires together, watching them spark with a grin. “Okay, hit it!”</p><p>For the record, Lee looked hot in her entire outfit; fishnet stockings, black and purple short skirt, that see-through lace top. <em>God.</em></p><p>The engine revved. “Yes, you did it!”</p><p>“Let’s go already!” She squealed, leaping up into her seat. Lee hit the gas and the van lurched forward, speeding away. “Oh my god!” She laughed.</p><p>“Fucking brilliant!” Lee agreed.</p><p>They veered around a corner, heading downtown. </p><p>“How long till they notice?” Lee gasped.</p><p>“No idea!” She grabbed Lee’s thigh, held it tight while they went around another corner. “Why the fuck are there no seatbelts!”</p><p>“Fucking criminals!” Lee shouted. “Tryna kill us!”</p><p>“I’m gonna put my music in okay!”</p><p>“Go ahead!”</p><p>She slipped her tape in.</p><p>
  <em>“They never saw us coming 'til they hit the floor. They just kept beggin' for more, more!”</em>
</p><p>“Na, na na, na na na na!” Kristen screamed along with it. “All dressed up for a hit and run!”</p><p>“Na, na na, na na na na!” Lee joined in. “All dressed up for a hit and run!”</p><p>“You turned the wrong way!” She shouted. “It’s left to the southbridge!”</p><p>
  <em>“I was brought up as a southern belle, I grew into the queen of hell,”</em>
</p><p>“Oh shit!” They laughed as Lee did a U-turn in the middle of the road, the two of them pressed hard up against each other as she clutched the wheel.</p><p>
  <em>“You were just a little stowaway that stabbed her way to save herself,”</em>
</p><p>“Go, go, go!” She yelled, throwing her head back laughing as they sped through the narrows.</p><p>
  <em>“You always liked the taste of blood,”</em>
</p><p>“Wait, which side did he say he put a gap in?!”</p><p>“Oh shit, I forgot!”</p><p>
  <em>“And I get off when I point the gun,”</em>
</p><p>The bridge reared in front of them.</p><p>“You better open the door, love!” Kristen opened the door, felt the wind rip through her clothes.</p><p>“I don’t know if I can do this!” She clutched the seat, fingernails digging in as her heart screamed in her throat.</p><p>“Shit, shit, shit, there it is! Fucking get ready, honey!” Lee’s foot went flat as she headed straight for the side railing.</p><p>“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Kristen screamed.</p><p>
  <em>“It's so good to have someone to be so bad with!”</em>
</p><p>“Jump!” And they did, tucking and rolling as the entire van flew through the weakened railing, splashing into Gotham river.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Kristen panted. “Holy <em>shit!</em>”</p><p>“We did it!” Lee yelled, raising her arms. Kristen grabbed her hands.</p><p>“We did it!” She shouted, jumping up and down. “We did it!”</p><p>“Holy fuck!” She laughed.</p><p>“Oh my god, we did it.” And she couldn’t take it anymore, she pulled Lee in and kissed her.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Lee whispered, her hands on her shoulders as they kissed, and it was just as exciting as everything else, Kristen’s heart running a race as their tongues scraped together, quick and dirty, Lee’s fingers rough as they moved through her hair. Kristen’s entire gut was filled with lava, everything warm and soaked with excitement.</p><p>Suddenly she heard the sound of cars approaching. “Fuck, Lee, we gotta run!” She grabbed her hand and they bolted back down the bridge, aiming for the nearest alley-way.</p><p>“Here, here!” Lee pulled her through a gap in a broken fence and they sprinted across the wet concrete, making a turn behind another building.</p><p>“Wait!” They stopped in their tracks. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Kiss me again.” Kristen grinned and Lee pressed her against the bricks behind them and they <em>kissed,</em> her fingers hooked in Lee’s fishnet tights as Lee played with the tops of her knee-high socks<em>.</em> “Fuck, Lee, we’ve gotta–”</p><p>“Run,” Lee finished, grabbing her hand to tug her along again.</p><p>“That’s not what I meant!” Kristen yelled as her feet pounded the concrete. Thank god she’d worn sneakers. “Where did you stash the car, Lee?”</p><p>“It’s three streets over, now come <em>on!</em>” They laughed again and ran and ran and ran.</p><p>---</p><p>“So,” Ed paused over his cup of tea, looking up at the two of them. “Would you be willing to do that again?”</p><p>The girls looked at each other and grinned. “Definitely.”</p><p>---</p><p>“Ed, it worked. We got Maroni’s attention,” Oswald’s voice scratched through the phone. “Meet me at the club; this is almost over.”</p><p>Ed grabbed his green coat and left, stopping at the Records Annex to break the girls out of their makeout session to say goodbye before he bolted.</p><p>His car wouldn’t start fast enough and traffic was how hell, but he made it to Oswald’s club eventually, parking his car in the spot Oswald always reserved for him.</p><p>He ran through the doors, looking around for the coatman. He heard voices shouting inside, none of them his boyfriend’s.</p><p>“Oswald!” He called, “I’m here!” No one replied.</p><p>“Oswald?” He walked to the doorway, his heart stopping as he saw Oswald tied to a chair, a red cloth in his mouth. He walked in and saw he wasn’t alone: Falcone, Oswald, Detective Gordon and Detective Bullock in a row. “Umm… He looked around the room of people with guns, men and women, even some kids. “Hi?”</p><p>All heads turned to him at once.</p><p>“Who are you?” A woman with one blue eye and one brown asked.</p><p>“Umm. I’m Ed Nygma,” he cleared his throat, “Oswald’s boyfriend.” He frowned, looking at the burly man who was facing her. “Maroni?”</p><p>The man chuckled. “Tie him up, too.”</p><p>Ed’s hand went to his pocket. “No thanks.” He pointed the gun and fired. Then all hell broke loose.</p><p>He ran to Oswald as chaos screamed around them, untying him with shaking fingers.</p><p>“Thanks for coming, Ed.”</p><p>“No problem.” He answered. “Let’s get out of here.”</p><p>“I have to kill Fish first,” Oswald told him. “Where is she?” </p><p>“I can’t see her!”</p><p>“Shit, she’s on the roof.” Then Oswald snatched his gun away and ran, his marred leg barely slowing him down. Ed frowned, rather offended that he’d been left behind.</p><p>“Hey, Ed.” He turned to Jim. “Give us a hand?”</p><p>“Oh don’t worry detective, I’m sure you can get yourself out of this mess yourself.” Some idiot collapsed in front of them and he snatched it away, turning and heading to the roof as well.</p><p>He snuck up the stairs, keeping to the shadows when he reached the roof access. He peered out the doorway. His stomach dropped.</p><p>“Oswald?”</p><p>Fish had Oswald against the (wall thingy) a bat keeping his shoulders pinned. Oh dear, Oswald wasn’t exactly one for a physical fight. What happened to his gun?</p><p>Ed glanced at his pistol. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.</p><p>“Fish Mooney.” </p><p>“What?” She spat, not looking at him.</p><p>“Get off my boyfriend!” He fired and she turned.</p><p>“<em><strong>OWWWW!!!</strong></em>”</p><p>“Oswald?”</p><p>“Dammit, Ed, you shot my shoulder!” He screamed.</p><p>“I’m sorry, she turned!” He winced. “Do you want me to take a look at it?”</p><p>“No, I want you to shoot her!”</p><p>“Oh right.” He turned and fired, getting her chest.</p><p>“You two sons of bitches, I’m going to <em>haunt</em> you,” she screeched and gurgled, possibly choking on her blood.</p><p>“Does this mean we have to hide another body again?” Ed asked Oswald.</p><p>“I don’t know,” He rolled his eyes, “Maybe you could help me out here before you worry about coming up with another vat of beer to dump someone in!”</p><p>“Vat of beer? No, she has to go in the river. Because she’s Fish! Get it?” He giggled.</p><p>“Ed!” Oswald nodded to his shoulder.</p><p>“Oh right.” He hurried forward, carefully pulling Oswald’s jacket away. “Do you have any scissors?”</p><p>“My darling Ed, does it <em>look</em> like I have scissors?”</p><p>Ed nodded. “Okay.” He ripped the shirt at the shoulder seam. “You know you’re kind of cute when you’re angry.”</p><p>“You’re kind of cute as a doctor,” Oswald retorted.</p><p>“Do you want to make out after this?” Ed asked, dabbing at the wound. It was mostly a scratch, it hadn’t damaged the bone or anything.</p><p>“Try to stop me.” Oswald grinned. “You know what this means, right?”</p><p>“What does it mean?” Ed asked. He needed some antiseptic.</p><p>“We’re the Kings of Gotham,” He laughed. “You and I: We’re the Kings of Gotham.”</p><p>“The Kings of Gotham,” he hummed. “I rather like the sound of that.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The end.</p><p>Thanks again everybody! There's a few oneshots some of us wrote for the AU that's still to come, but until then, goodbye and I hope you enjoyed! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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